I hope to live a few more years
and find a way to get more healthy.
I don’t regret decades of beers,
but if death comes, I hope it’s stealthy.

I have survived a year of doom,
with cancer, plague, and long work days.
And now I pick an FC Loom,
as evening sets, and vent malaise.

For though our woes seem oversized,
and future questions unsurmised,
I’m calmer, Jack, I got my own;
I rolled my sleeve and got me Pfized.