Sick-Friend

My friend she is in hospital,

She’s feeling not too great,

They say her heart is beating,

At a most peculiar rate,

 

So they’ve given her some medicine,

And told that she must rest,

They will have to keep her wired up,

I suppose that they know best.

 

I wonder what the cause is,

To make her so unwell,

It’s a good job I’m no doctor,

As I don’t think I could tell.

 

Perhaps she is too stressed out,

Perhaps work is too hard,

Perhaps it is the whiskey,

And the late night poker card.

 

Perhaps it is the pizza,

Served hot with nice cold beer,

That is the reason she is there,

And sadly not  back here.

 

I hope that you feel better soon,

And are back to your mad best,

Chatting like a monkey on speed,

But for now, it’s time to rest.