A conversation between a ‘patient’ and his doctor
By May Kwek
Doctor, doctor I am hurt
I can’t feel it through my shirt
How came you to this hurt?
Where my good man does this hurt lurk?
Up here in my head
Oh please doctor give something for relief instead!
That I cannot possibly do
For there is nothing wrong with you
Doctor, doctor I am sick
I can feel to my leg
And where is it that you are sick?
So much so that it hurts your leg?
In here, in my tummy
It really feels awfully funny
Sorry my friend, but something’s fishy
There seems to be nothing wrong with your tummy
Fishy! Precisely! It is my nose
Doctor, I can’t smell a rose
My dear fellow there is nothing to smell
And perhaps that is just as well
Doctor, doctor I have something to ask
And I hope to it isn’t too hard a task
Ask away, what may it be?
What request do you have of me?
Oh doctor, doctor, grant me sick leave
So that I may leave you in peace
That I would jolly well do
So long as I see no more of you!
Copyright © 2012 by May Kwek