It sounds like the villain in a Star Trek show,
Three eyes, two noses, scowling henchmen in tow.
Who wouldn't be a villain with a name like that,
And envy the big stars like Brad, George and Matt?
They couldn't use "cron" or just good ol' "omy,"
But a letter elected by a bureaucrat homey.
.
It's much like this crisis so long and so grave,
The improv' of pharmas and mainstream news knave,
Requiring more new jabs to flu keep at bay,
Which leads one to think there'll soon come a day
When we get to omega, arms by jabs scarred,
And our nerves, brains and hearts all flummoxed and charred.
.
'Cause here and there I hear of research well-made
That of side effects tells and makes me afraid
That my aorta will pop and veins turn to mush,
If to yon bus stop I find I must rush.
Booster upon booster, that stuff does add up,
Till someday runneth over my cardio cup.
.
Well, two shots I've had and so far so good,
But take the next booster I don't think I would:
It's just been a few months since my last syringe,
And I see no reason to go on a boost binge,
'Cause as things are going I won't get to Feb,
Before Fauci's saying my booster's on ebb.
.
Besides, after Delta comes the Greek Epsilon,
Among nine more letters that got cheated on.
Prob'ly some doctor went to Omycron frat,
Or figured for fear Epsi ain't where it's at,
'Cause every new strain must be worse than the last,
Lest we start thinking that the crisis has passed.
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