My doctor was a lady of great skill
She cut my head off with a type of pill
I still miss those kind voices I once heard
Till she convinced me they were only birds.
My doctor had got malice in her eye.
As she demanded one patient must die.
I said to her that Jesus was enough
And it was a mortal sin to call God’s bluff.
I told her how a voice had said clearly
That love but not great wealth would come to me
She said “you’re bordering on offence .”
So I told her that real numbers are quite dense
My doctor was so good at curing ills
When she died, they made her into pills.
