Sailing

We should be on a ship,
Sailing across the sea.
Yet, we’re stuck at home,
Bored as we can be.

The living room’s our Lido Deck,
But there isn’t much to do.
We don’t have any contests,
There isn’t any pool.

Our buffet is open all day long,
It’s called the kitchen here.
There’s not a wide selection,
And bars don’t have any beer.

We can go out on excursions,
Just like on any cruise.
It’s now a bit like gambling,
With just your life to lose.

The back porch is our balcony,
The back yard’s our open sea,
The view just never changes,
We’re docked at Homestead Quay.

Intestinal Fortitude

To the tune of “My Bonnie”

My colon is long as the ocean,
My colon is wide as the sea.
They’re sticking a scope in my colon,
It’s called “colonoscopy.”

“Ping” goes the computer.
All bloody day long.
It means I have new email.
That little one-note song.

I haven’t heard it for weeks.
My computer stayed at home.
I didn’t really miss it.
It was quiet while I roamed.

Now, it’s back.
Back with a vengeance, I’d say.
I’m going to have to mute the speakers.
I’ll turn the volume back Monday.