What Constitution! Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A man when ill will undergo a change
his thinking often suffers, becomes strange.
His voicebox, though gains rapidly in strength
and he will bore us all when talking at great length.

You see, he says the doctors had to work all night
and given up on him, they never thought he might
pull through this crisis as no human would succeed,
but he has triumphed over destiny. Indeed.

Professor X. who'd flown his jet from Aberdeen
was joined by specialists from Mayo on the scene.
They stood in groups to say that nothing could be done;
he was a goner, would they all excuse the pun.

Both kidneys failed but then snapped out of it by eight,
his skin a portrait of a biliverdin green,
with half the liver gone things didn't look too great,
he ran a fever that had not before been seen.

There was a party of the bastards Golden Staph
and funny squiggles on the echocardiograph.
And he himself was floating up there in the air
to watch his passing and the folks who didn't care.

They turned the switches when his heart at last gave in.
This was a battle that no specialists could win.
He'd cheated death so many times and no one had
been in a pickle such as this one, it was baaad!

I think that something in our heads wants to impress,
just look how big I am how clever and how strong.
Though most have been and gotten out of such a mess,
first chance we get we'll make you listen to our song.