The doctors took an x-ray
And what did they see?
A bunch of little puffballs
Dancin' right inside of me
They weren't in my stomach
And nothin' in the liver
They weren't in the glands
But still they made me quiver
I was feelin' o.k.
Just a little out of breath
I could walk all around
Didn't think it was my death
I've had my share of sickness
But I'm really not a crier
I've just kept a-goin'
Though I get a little tired
So I went to the doc
And what did he see?
Get a will! Buy a tomb!
Cause I'm sure you're gonna be
Stuck at home, in your room
See you're almost convalescent
It's your breathin'. The little balls?
Some have holes and some are bent.
Come On Pesky Doctors
Come On Pesky Doctors
I belted it all out
So I'm sure they heard the words
I had to shorten my demand
It was hard to get a breath
I mean the way they treated me
You'da thought it was my death
COPD, COPD
You think they listened to my words?
For all that I could tell
I was talkin' to the birds
COPD, COPD
When they finally came back
They listened to my words
And said I was right on track.
c aaron
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Intense and powerful ink revealing bitter reality. It sounds ironical
Actually the doc told me that. Went in for a blood clot in the lung (which is dangerous) to find out what was causing a pain in the side- and they told me I had one in both lungs (I'm ok now) but told me about the 'floaties' (COPD) & I am dealing with that now. (Daily & it's not fun, but am still here!)