Laughing is great medicine and easy to swallow.

What a hoot! My chute is plugged
and my tooter’s on the blink.
My hide has withered and fell,
bags ‘neath my eyes have packed . . . hang
and I don’t give a dang!
My headlights have turned about,
now on my back they jut out.
Oh shoot!
What a hoot! My mirror quakes, hides,
“Hi-ho Silver . . . go away.”
Gone too long without hormones
(growing more hair everywhere)
I resemble a bear.
Mud-faced, wild hair, door bell rang . . .
he’s in a straight-jacket now.
Oh shoot!
What a hoot! Renovation . . .
there’s a mixer on my rear.
Unbound work is caving fast;
can’t undo what decades passed.
Concrete shades abound around
naturally . . . nothing is fake!
Oh shoot!
What a hoot!