As we are gripped in the usual winter flu epidemic this poem, from our Open Mic' in November seems appropriate and hopefully will bring a smile to the reader's face.
THE MAN THAT NEVER COMPLAINS
My ears are really throbbing and my chest is feeling tight
My head is splitting apart and i'm really off me bite
I feel i'm coming down with a ferocious Manflu
That would floor the very best of us but i'm not complaining to you
I don't take potions and pills OR sympathy as I suffer
For the man that suffers in silence cannot be called a bluffer
No I'm not complaining of the pains and aches I have
Or the congested chest and phlegm,
you know the sick green gunge that refuses
To be washed down the drain.
I'm keeping it to myself, the obvious symptoms that pertain
Like the loss of manly strength while in my bed I remain
i'll not be bothering my GP, nor even receptionists at the clinic
Though I'm suffering, there's worse of than me. I'm dammed if I'll be called a cynic
And as the world 'casts a cold eye' while my temperature soars and wanes
Will that Horseman pass me by'?
The man that NEVER complains.