Monday, June 05, 2017

Dutch Jones Disease

Poor old Mr. Jones, always coming down, or happening to, some kind of horrid ailment. I caught up with him back in the gay old nineties. Let me tell you about it:

Mr. Jones, I gotta tell you
You have a strange disease,
You’re the first man to succumb 
To a virus that kills trees,
Your symptoms are unusual
But our data is pretty thin,
As a tree would shed its bark
We note your flaking skin.

Your gait is quite unsteady
As you stumble in your boots,
There’s a striking similarity
To a tree with rotting roots,
And like autumn leaves that change
Drifting through the air,
We notice the alarming rate
You’re losing all your hair.

Though the cause is not determined
There is but one straw that we clutch,
You share a common ancestry
The tree and you are Dutch.

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