Bones
Said Mr.
Smith, “I really cannot
Tell you, Dr.
Jones—
The most peculiar pain I’m in—
I think it’s in my bones.
”
Said Dr.
Jones, “Oh, Mr.
Smith,
That’s nothing.
Without doubt
We have a simple cure for that;
It is to take them out.
”
He laid forthwith poor Mr.
Smith
Close-clamped upon the table,
And, cold as stone, took out his bones
As fast as he was able.
Smith said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”
And wished him a good-day;
And with his parcel ‘neath his arm
He slowly moved away.
Poem by
Walter De La Mare
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