As my posts always seem to be rants...

There was an old maiden named Marian,
She wasn't much of a disciplinarian.
She let us run wild,
And lived like a child.
Until her bones were wrought with osteoporosis.

She sometimes lied about her ailments,
But was truthful about her derailments.
Her eyes were always caring,
Her fresh baking made for sharing.
But her lungs did struggle from tuberculosis.

When she played the piano they all loved her,
Because her fingers would whizz in a blur.
She could paint and she could sing,
She could fix any kind of thing.
But not her acute asbestosis.

Now dear old Marian is in rehab today,
Her legs have given up leading the way.
She is getting fitter all the time,
And is still quite sublime.
She has even fixed her diagnosis.