Polio Vaccine

I’m reading a novel and people are dying –
Polio is the disease.
Before the vaccine, no one knew what to blame –
Dirty hands, rotten food or a sneeze.

Back when I was a kid, we were herded, in camp,
To a central place for an injection.
We waited in line and each child left in tears;
I was smart and I made the connection.

So I kept moving back to the end of the line,
Hoping maybe they’d run out of shots;
And as more and more children arrived, I slipped back
As I gallantly gave up my spots.

But the one thing I noticed, was as they came out,
Every child clutched a prize in his hand –
A lollipop better than any I’d seen,
With a farm tool to hold in your hand.

There were shovels and hoes, there were realistic rakes.
They were yellow, red, orange and blue;
And when my turn came up, I consoled myself ‘cause
My reward waited when I was through.

But the irony was, since I’d waited so long,
Letting everyone else go ahead,
After I got my shot, all those lollies were gone –
And they gave me a plain one instead.

How I cried for the utter injustice I felt!
The pain hardly mattered at all;
But the anger I aimed at myself and the world
Is the one thing I clearly recall.

We were lucky to get that vaccine way back then,
For it put polio in its place;
But my memory reminds me that cleverness may
Sometimes backfire right into our face!