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My Dentist

by
 Sitting in the dentist's chair,
Wishing that I wasn't there,
To forget and pass the time
I have made this bit of rhyme.
I had a rendez-vous at ten; I rushed to get in line, But found a lot of dames and men Had waited there since nine; I stared at them, then in an hour Was blandly ushered in; But though my face was grim and sour He met me with a grin.
He told me of his horse of blood, And how it "also ran", He plans to own a racing stud - (He seems a wealthy man.
) And then he left me there until I growled: "At any rate, I hope he'll not charge in his bill For all the time I wait.
" His wife has sables on her back, With jewels she's ablaze; She drives a stately Cadillac, And I'm the mug who pays: At least I'm one of those who peer With pessimistic gloom At magazines of yester-year In his damn waiting room.
I am a Christian Scientist; I don't believe in pain; My dentist had a powerful wrist, He tries and tries in vain To make me grunt or groan or squeal With probe or rasp or drill.
.
.
.
But oh, what agony I feel When HE PRESENTS HIS BILL! Sitting in the dental chair, Don't you wish you weren't there: Well, your cup of woe to fill, Just think of his infernal bill.

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