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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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