Friday, 18 July 2008


A man from a poor coloured family
Went to the Doc for some tests
He hadn’t been well at all lately
Having had pains in his chest
After which the Doc said quite gravely
This is the prognosis I give
Although your heart is quite normal
I’l give you just nine months to live
The poor man was simply crestfallen
Said is there nothing at all you can do
All I can do said the doctor
As he tried hard to take the long view
I’I put you down as a donor
Your heart won’t be much good to you
After some hesitation
The poor man meekly aquiessed
And said on one condition
That you give me the recipient’s address
I’d like to call and give him
The good news that my heart will help
Save his life
And maybe see the joy at the news
On the face of his wife
As he walked through the prosperous district
To which the address referred
He walked up the path of the huge detatched house
Feeling not a little deterred
Standing behind the latest Porsch
Was a man on a motorised mower
And with a voice as loud as the jacket he wore
Shouted “what the hell do you want here”
The poor man was taken aback
And really shook to the core
“I’m the donor whos’e giving you his heart”
the man’s eyebrows had started to lower
“thank Christ for that”he said relieved
“I thought you were moving in next door.

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