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The Diagnosis

An old man of tremendous wealth
Was quite concerned about his health
And called the doctor by himself
For he was in great pain.
The doctor tapped him on the chest,
The abdomen, the heaving breast,
And to his young assistant stressed
The specialist's refrain.

"What do you think?" the doctor said
In private, "Why is he in bed,
What thoughts are running through your head?
A diagnosis make."
The young man said, "I surely can
Determine what's wrong with this man,
He doesn't need a Blue Cross planó
It's just a bellyache!"

The doctor said, "You've much to learn,
A handsome living we must earn;
Such wealth is far too great to spurn,
We must think of our fee.
Look at those pictures on the walls,
Observe the statues in the halls,
Such richness loud and clearly calls
An appendectomy!"

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