THE GASMAN COMETH AGAIN
[Miriam A Kilmer, after Flanders and Swann]

'Twas on a Monday morning
the gasman came around,
for I was plagued with flatulence
which caused an awful sound.
I feasted on Simethecone
but it was all in vain.
I swallowed Omeprozole
and threw it up again.
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

'Twas on a Tuesday morning
I couldn't empty... but
I called the Chiropractor
to straighten out my gut.
She grabbed my neck and ankles
and she pulled this way and that.
She said: "You have a blockage.
You must see a doctor STAT!"
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

'Twas on a Wednesday morning
we called the ambulance
to treat my dire emergency,
my colon's stubborn stance.
We rushed through all the traffic lights
with sirens blaring loud.
To garner such attention!
I was both abashed and proud.
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

'Twas on a Thursday morning
I entered Urgent Care,
but they were only stymied;
they couldn't help me there.
The Gastroenterologist
came bursting into song:
"Unless you take a camera pill
we'll never know what's wrong!
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

'Twas on a Friday morning
I bravely tried my luck,
but soon we found the camera
was well and truly stuck.
They took a nasogastric tube
and, trying not to miss,
they put it through my nostril, saying:
"Now dear, swallow this!"
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

On Saturday they sent me home.
On Sunday it came out.
'Twas on a Monday morning
that the gasman came about.
He said: "We'll have to wait and see
just what the testing shows."
He argued with the surgeon,
so my treatment gambit froze.
And it all makes work for the working folk to do.

MAK