With Apologies to Woody Guthrie

CHORUS:
This pain is my pain,
It's called a migraine,
It hurts from the surface,
Clear down to my brain,
From the nape of my neck,
To behind my eyeballs:
This pain is known as a migraine.


As I was walking
To the cafeteria,
I saw around me,
a familiar sparkle;
I saw that my eyes
would soon be blinded:
This pain is known as a migraine.

CHORUS

And so I sat at
My colleagues' table,
Just as quickly
As I was able,
Because I knew that
I'd never find them,
With pain that's known as a migraine.

CHORUS

I felt like puking,
I felt like barfing,
Instead of talking
or even arguing!*
Instead I sat there
In all the loudness,
with pain that's known as a migraine.

CHORUS

After half an hour,
My vision cleared,
Things weren't as bad
As I had feared,
But then the pain arrived,
And my mood nose-dived:
This pain is known as a migraine.

CHORUS

I spent the time
After lunch working
On a program
With a problem lurking,
But I soon discovered
The real cause of trouble:
The pain that's known as a migraine.

CHORUS

I had some meds once,
but they expired
(It's been a while
since they were required!),
But it doesn't matter,
Because they don't work
On the pain that's known as a migraine!

CHORUS


* There was a good political discussion about one of my hot-button topics, health insurance, and I could hardly participate!

Old McShrieker

Old McShrieker had a scream,
Aah aah aah aah ahh!!!!
And when he squealed it pierced my ears,
Aah aah aah aah ahh!!!!
With a screech-screech here, and a squawk-squawk there,
here a screech, there a squawk, everywhere a screech-screech!
Old McShrieker's lungs work well,
Aah aah aah aah ahh!!!!

With Apologies to Stephen Foster

Beautiful screamer, why waken me,
Cooing and screeching at hours early?
Sounds that should wait for daylight at best,
Can't wait to waken me from my sweet rest.
Beautiful screamer, prince of my song,
Grinning so broadly, cute as can be,
Can't let your parents sleep for too long!
Beautiful screamer, why waken me?
Beautiful screamer, why waken me?

With Apologies to Bob Dylan

How many times must a woman go pee,
before her baby arrives?
How many aches will she get in her feet,
her ankles, her knees, and her thighs?
How much more weight will she gain before then;
her ankles will swell to what size?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
the answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times will the baby kick me,
until he decides to come out?
How many days will it take me to lose
the weight that is making me stout?
And how good a mom will I turn out to be
and will I remain filled with doubt?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
the answer is blowin' in the wind.