How Much Longer Jim? Poem by Phil Ward

We were getting a bit concerned,
Nobody else gave a damn,
He's not on a diet,
Unless he's kept quiet,
He's just polished off half the ham.
Uncle Jim was always slim,
But we never thought him as thin,
Every week he'd come round for his Sunday dinner,
All that food that he ate and he's getting thinner,
He's the first to finish and always the winner,
So why was he losing weight?

I had a quiet word in his ear,
And sent him off up to the Doc,
To see if he knew,
Or could hazard a clue,
What I heard was a bit of a shock.
He's certainly not getting smaller,
In fact he's eight inches taller,
He lies in his bed; he sticks out his leg,
Too lazy to rise and switch it instead,
Well that is the reason the doctor said,
To turn off the light in the hall.

So he's not losing weight it's a myth,
He's such a lazy old git,
He should have predicted,
What he has inflicted,
He's over stretched himself a bit.
So why did he not say a word,
The situation's absurd,
To us he was always good old Jim,
But now he's like a piece of string,
Nothing but a coiled up spring,
And nothing's changed I've heard.