The Hypochondriac Poem by alan brown

The day I went to the doctor
I knew I was going to be ill
As I'd been alright for ages
and I'd never even taken a pill
He looked down my throat
with a bright light
And tied a broad strap on my arm
I knew that I was suffering from something
I just hoped he could tell me what's wrong

He asked me to sit in the arm chair
and roll up my trouser leg
He then took this enormous hammer
and hit me twice quickly he said.
Then he took out his stethoscope
And put it right up to my chest
I was wondering if he could hear anything
As I was still wearing my thermal vest.
He gave me the all clear that morning
and said it was all in my mind
But I know whats wrong with me now
It's an illness a Doctor can't find.