Rage Against the Roid

If you had told me that one day I would be standing in the aisle of a schoolbus bound for Tegucigalpa listening to Carribean Queen and watching waterfalls stream down from pinetree clad mountaintops while being bounced back and forth between the seats with a bluging, watermelon sized hemmoroid protruding from my rear end like a tail...

...I might not have known what to say...

But I might say this:

Doctor won´t you please
help my hemmoroid
He´s down there lookin´at me
He coughed up snot
on´t you help him
I think its his vein.

Doctor won´t you please
help my hemmoroid
He´s down and he ain´t
gettin´up
He can´t talk
´cause he´s a hemmoroid
and I think its vein.