I’m not an ant-vaxxer
I agree with all my might
That getting stuck, like a sitting duck,
Is the way to do things right.
But in the last six months it seems
My arms are getting sieve-y
So many holes, that bless my soul
My favorite drug’s Aleve-y.
It started with the shingles shots
A pair I’d heard were scary
It would burn your toes and crinkle your nose
And turn your tonsils hairy!
Next ‘twas time for the annual boost
Of the vax for influenza
The pharmacist jabbed, and the air I grabbed.
As I fainted ‘gainst the office credenza.
Six weeks ago it was my turn
For my left arm to surrender
I stood in line, whittled away the time
For two doses – the Moderna protector.
And when I thought that I was finally done
With Band-Aids, needles, and an alcohol wipe
At today’s physical exam, where I learned I am
Old enough for an additional type.
I’m Medicare age (a young 65)
Ripe for the shot that blocks out pneumonia
A vicious disease, brings the old to their knees
Those damn pneumococci will own ya.
But now I at last I think I’m done,
I’ve gone through all the potions
I’ll roll down my sleeve, put my doctors on leave
With my mind full of all healthful notions.