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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