Wednesday, March 14, 2012

A conversation between a ‘patient’ and his doctor

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

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