They took me to the hospital. Oh, what a jest!
They said I must have quiet and complete rest.
There was noise beneath, all around and over head.
A rubber pad, on a board, they called a bed.
They punctured my finger for a blood test.
They felt of my belly, they felt of my chest.
They took pictures of my liver, and tested my heart.
I thought maybe from my gall bladder, I'd have to part.
They dented my dignity, and raised my wrath.
By keeping me in bed while I took my bath.
For a gown, they gave me a monkey shirt.
It had neck and sleeves. No sign of a skirt.
For nourishment, they brought a bottle on a pole
Tied my hand down, and in my arm, made a hole.
When I had to empty, they brought me a pan.
Even tho' all my live, I had used a pe-can.
The nurses were overworked, but did their work well.
When the sisters were out, dirty stories they would tell.
My doctor was a Jew, very wise, and acted with much concern.
But I lay there wishing for the care of the intern.
On one side was an old lady, who had broken her hip.
Tho' she suffered much pain, no lament passed her lip.
On the other side was a woman that I thought had the pip.
She turned loose both ends of her tongue, and just let her rip.
For the invalids of hospitals, I've toiled and cooked.
Thought how nice the inside looked.
But just give me the quiet of home, and my own good bed.
And don't take me away again 'till after I'm dead.
These are copyright 1996 and reprinted with permission.
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