In 1973 my best friend, Stoney, wrote a song that I have played for many years since, whenever I was sick, and sometimes just for the joy of it. I offer it now as a testament to the fears of long ago, based of course, on the three channels of limited television news back then. In some anti-hippyish way, it seems pertinent to now.
It’s common time, with simple chords: C, D, G, and F. So here is the poetry of it. You can add your own tune.
I’ve got cholera, pneumonia
And a tiny touch of flu
My toenails are infected
And I don’t know what to do
They say I will get healthy
But it will take lots of time
So till then I’ll just grit my teeth
And tell the world I’m fine
The plague has hit me seven times
And this I know for sure
That I have got a blood disease
Of which there is no cure
The hospitals and clinics
I’ve been in would blow your mind
But I just pay my doctor bills
And tell the world I’m fine
I was laid up seven weeks
With Hepatitis flu
From eating off of dirty plates
And that you shouldn’t do
And when I’m healthy I don’t
Have my strength for very long
Because you must get off your butt
And practice to be strong
I take some pills that taste so bad
You know that it’s a sin
Like vitamins and laxatives and
Even aspirin
And pay my doctors millions
For a batch of crummy pills
So see my illness ain’t from flu
It’s from the doctor bills
When I am well I think a surgeon
Is what I will be
And operate on people so to
Pay my doctor’s fee
I’ll take out gallstones, hearts, and lungs
To earn a little cash
And then when I go home at night
I’ll take out all my trash
I feel some scurvy coming on
So drink your orange juice
And don’t forget your hernia
Your truss looks kind of loose
A hernia is painful and I
Don’t know what to do
‘Cause if I have to lift I may just
Lose a ball or two
I’ve never seen a bathroom and
This I say with pride
‘Cause in intensive care I have a
Bedpan by my side
But I don’t gripe and don’t complain
The pain is of the mind
And though I think myself to death
Instead…I…say…I’m…fine
