Dusty

Dusty


He meets with elusive witches
Spanning deep gullies and ditches
Cracked faces to suture stitches-

The whimpering teething child
With body seething hot and wild
Soon he sleeps with pain mild.

With ease he digs out sore tooth
That fouls the wretch’s mouth
To remove a cyst from “th’ rooth”

Suffering ill-timed complex labour
He swings a miniature sabre
Retrieving breech future blubber!

Dusty’s offers invaluable solace
To they who in disgrace grimace
By the knowledgeable embrace!


                    ****


He’s a little more concerned
  With scrub and putting up patches
Or seeing patients stir in fitness
  And to mend the ailing wretch.

Relieve or solace a man who gives
  Removes from an ailing heart 
Pain, misery and a load of gyves.

With needles so thin and sharp
And a handful of bitter pills
Music of the soul Doctors harp
To postpone execution of wills!

When Dusty’s around in a show
Terrified by his paraphernalia
Illness and misery cringe or bow!

Prognosis and its efficacy 
  Is measured by number of graves-
Much Dead scrap you’ll see
  When a mechanic misbehaves:

Child with a body simmering hot
  Dad with his usual aching head
Sweet Mum with her hell lot....



**Dedication to the Dustcoats, I mean Doctors!

JM

21st Nov’ 2013

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