Publican

This sorry tale of how good health can lead a man to strife,
Was told by one who'd never had a crook day in his life.

Not since he was a nipper had old George been taken ill.
Avoiding plague like maladies had taken quite some skill.

George hadn't time for those who groaned of gripes with rampant glee,
And many knew the pride he took in his salubrity.

But luck can manage destiny, for just a while, to bend,
And George's great good fortune would, too soon, come to an end.

One morning he awoke to find his body racked with pain.
His nose was stuffed; his ears were filled with buzzings from his brain.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror down the hall,
A pallid ghoul stared back at him. This wasn't good at all!

He had the shakes from head to toe, his temperature was raised,
His bloodshot eyes were watering, his red face fairly blazed.

"My hour has come," he weakly moaned, "I've seen my final day.
I feel my spirit ebbing out. I'm soon to pass away!"

He made a booking on the phone to see the local quack,
He wrote his will, he freed the chooks, he doubted he'd be back.

Now Jack, the local doctor, had long heard of Georges' fame,
And thought it might appeal to all to play a well meant game.

For Jack was known to regulars to joke around a bit,
(He wasn't past anaesthetising patients with his wit!)

When George came in to see him, looking rather worse for wear,
Jack put on his most solemn frown and studied George with care.

With every test that's known to man, he ran George through the mill.
As Jacks' scowl darkened all the more, the more poor George felt ill.

When Jack was done, his face was grave. He gave poor George a pat.
"It's nasopharyngitis! An acute case too, at that!"

"You'll have it just for seven days, and then its run is through.
I'm sorry George," was all Jack said, "There's nothing I can do."

Poor George went white; his nerves gave out as Jack confirmed his fears,
He bolted off with Jacks pronouncement ringing in his ears.

He headed for the local pub to contemplate his plight,
He spent his savings shouting beers to everyone in sight.

The publican grew quite concerned at Georges legless state,
"I think Jack's had a lend of you, but I can put you straight."

"This nasopharyngitis thing, I've heard that name for sure,
I tell you, it's the common cold! Jack's tried that one before!"

The publican was privy to some ravings quite intense,
As George rushed out in angry haste "To teach that quack some sense!"

Well, no one knows exactly what went on between the two,
Suffice to say that both emerged a jaded purple hue.

And now, from jokes and braggings of good health, they both refrain,
For both will tell you one mans pride can mean another's pain.