Once I loved such
a shattering physician,
Quite the best -looking doc
tor in the state.
He looked after my physical condition,
And his bedside manner was great.
When I'd gaze up and see
him there above me,
Looking less like a doctor than a Turk,
I was tempted to whisper,
Do you love me,
Or do you merely love your work?
He said my bronchial tubes
were entrancing,
My epiglottis filled him with glee.
He simply loved my larynx
and went wild about my pharynx,
But he never said he'd love me.
He said my epidermis was darling,
And found my blood as blue as could be.
He went through wild ecstatics
when I showed him my lymphatics,
But he never said he'd love me.
And though no doubt,
it was not very smart of me,
I kept on a -racking my soul,
To figure out why he loved
every part of me,
And yet not me as a whole.
By my esophagus he was ravished,
Enthusiastic to a degree.
He said it was just enormous,
my appendix vermiformis,
but he never said he loved me.
He said my cerebellum was brilliant,
and my cerebrum far from NG.
I know he thought a lot of
my medulla oblongata,
but he never said he loved me.
He said my maxillaries were marvellous
and found my sternum stunning to see.
He did a double hurdle
when I shook my pelvic girdle,
but he never said he loved me.
He seemed amused
when he first made a test of me
to further his medical art.
Yet he refused
when he fixed up the rest of me
To cure that ache in my heart
I know he thought my pancreas perfect
And for my spleen was keen as could be
He said of all his sweeties,
I'd the sweetest diabetes
But he never said he loved me you