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My Prostrate and I.

by Albert Watson

They told me it's your prostrate,
It's cancerous wow my heart rate.

Think's a gun is pointed in my back,
How long to go, how short the track.

Now have this jab every quarter,
Tell your wife and tell your daughter.

Most men live with this and do not die,
Have no fear, there's no need to cry.

Now a scan we'll check your bones.
They take me to their nuclear zones.

Injected with what, I do not know,
But wonder, will my body glow.

They strap my arms and my legs,
Do keep still a nurse then begs.

A plate just stops above my nose,
Then travels down from head to toes.

Underneath from heels to head,
For twenty minutes I lay as dead.

Nothing in your bones they said,
Since then an active life I've led

Six years have passed what can I say,
Well praise you Lord for another day.

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