I have to pay a visit,
To have my colon checked.
When someone gets to be my age.
An ulcer they suspect.

I don’t think that I have one,
But it’s better to be sure.
So I’ll lay upon the table,
And let them make their tour.

The main thing that I dislike,
Is not the actual task.
It’s that I have to diet,
A steak is all I ask.

But the day before the process,
I’m not allowed to eat.
I can only sup on liquids,
Making sure my colon’s neat.

Two Dulcolax at one o’clock,
And Miralax at five,
Two more Dulcolax at eight o’clock,
It’s a wonder I’m alive!

But, boy! this stuff sure cleans you out,
The toilet is my friend.
I cannot wander very far,
And definitely not bend!

My inside sure feels empty,
I’m certain you’ll agree.
But when that probe goes round and round,
There’s nothing there to see.

So when I get back home again,
And my inside starts to heal.
I’ll sit down at the table,
And eat a great big meal.