The pledgin’ goes on from the Senators renown,
What a big fake, at least that’s the rumor,
Forsake, it is sad, my dear old granddad,
And they lie to old Harold, with tumor

With a node of seeping spore, plenty of cancer galore
And the Health Fund for Harold paid nothing,
The good man was blue and his life was just screwed
When details of the Health Plan said couns’ling

The drip was inside of the American’s hide,
An attack for some pill, but there is none,
As the inflators know, his vigor is toast,
Bids adieu to his life, it is undone

Including some terms in a design just reaffirms,
That the left just eroded the Health Plan,
For elders in plight, when their hips felt pang,
Could it be that the old men would be reeling?

Chagrined, the suppliers of good medicine found
That the old folk suffer, are ailing,
And every Doc knew, there’s no CAT Scan for you,
It’s a bitch, if you’re old now, no healing

Withdrawn, sedate, and old Harold not too great,
And the rules for the old folks came crashing,
The counseling came for his wheezing pain
To replace any medical handling

His sister cried shame, what a crock, what no check,
As she bellows, it’s enough, just treat him,
Just give him some chem, radiation begin,
She was zealous that they should just owe him

Death panel chimed in that the slaughter must begin,
And some good men are over a barrel,
But wait and hold tight, then they cite too old to fight,
So no check from the Health Plan for Harold

Such a cruel blow when the coverage slows,
When the hearts yearn and you have no powers,
Researchers convey that you might as well pray,
If they’d foreseen, they’d just try to charge you

At night, he’ll spit up, but don’t be too surprised,
The panel is cheap and says naught here,
For all of his pains, we can process only claims
And advise rationing, it is so clear

Fake curin’ goals, inferior stings,
You can sue ‘em, but can get no expansion,
Old Medicare seems, like an old man’s screams,
While Yes men don’t pay and from courts, none

The lawmen bestow, make some funds that grow,
Break out with a “dead” fund to spend here,
As the old ones are low and the rationing is slow,
For the tales of life couns’ling it’s so geared

In the Senator’s hall, so adroit, forbade,
Any pay for the Senior’s improvement,
The farewell primed, for old men plenty of times,
It began with the dead fund for Harold

The sledging goes on, from the Senators who frown,
What a mistake, that Health Care consumer,
Superior, they say, is our plan for the dead,
And they fail our old Harold with tumor.