The King's Clinic
When my friend fell off a wall,
I phoned up the local clinic.
“He’s got cracks,” I said in the call.
They said, “Bring him for a visit.”
As we parked he looked with fright,
Upon all the men who were dressed
As a bunch of Templar chef-knights,
With spatulas on their crest.
My pal was such the cynic,
Demanding we get out of there.
But I said, “It’s the King’s Clinic,
And there’s none finer anywhere.”
He then asked for other sources,
And really started to beg;
"Coz there’s a wheeled bowl pulled by horses,"
Claimed my friend, H. Dumpty the egg.
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment