Doctor doctor

Doctor doctor

there’s a queer swelling in my feet

with dents in my shin-flesh

and an ache in my chest.

Doctor doctor

it’s not all that bad

the ache is when I run

and not when I walk

(except fast uphill)

Doctor doctor

I am feeling rather ill

I’d much prefer bed-rest

than to swallow any pill.

Doctor doctor

I’m falling, I fell

My body stopped moving

although I could still speak rather well.

Yes they called the ambulance

and those good strong men said,

“B.P. 100 over 60, not dead.”

Doctor doctor

Will you let me know soon?

Will food and sleep help me

to conquer this swoon?

Must I stop working at too many things?

Will I stop crawling to drink at the sink?

Will it take long?

I’d like fixin’ soon.

But tell me, doctor, do I ask for the moon?

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