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