The Surgeon
We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.
Let's call on the rectal surgeon,
It's a calling we could crave;
Lift up your hands and join us,
Let's all do the finger wave.
When it comes to spreading joy,
There many a sweet techniques,
Some spread joy to all the world,
While others just spread cheeks.
Me thinks the cardiologist,
Needs be the patient’s friend;
But the colorectal surgeon,
Knows he'll get you in the end.
Why do you call a rectal surgeon,
It's one of those mysterious things;
Is it because in that profession,
There are always openings?
When I first met a rectal surgeon,
He didn't quite understand;
I said, "It's nice to meet you,
But do you mind if we don't shake hands.
A doctor he did want to be,
For golf he loved to play;
But this is not quite what he meant,
By eighteen holes a day.
We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.
Not mine
Copyright © Elizabeth Wesley | Year Posted 2011
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