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Joondalup Hospital ©

Tom Barker
Joondalup, Australia

Mah Missus Joyce took me ti Joondalup Hospital,
weer us took seats and perused some picture books.
Then ah noticed some other folk were patiently waitin’
an’ app’n sum exchanged furtive glum looks.

Ah am not a voluntary regular ‘ospital visitor,
‘owever on spottin’ a bloke with a wee sharp knife.
Dressed aw in white and weerin’ short Wellies,
ah gathered some other poor soul wuz in strife.

Mah Wife said, “For goodness sake sit down and stop shaking”
but me gob wus so dry I could hardly swaller.
An’ when I sat down, ah ‘ed ti ger up,
‘cos I suddenly felt like an ‘ippo in a waller.

Ah hed visions of a Sir Lancelot chargin’,
with a fifteen foot needle point lance.
Aimed at me chuffin’ chest like a dartboard,
an’ ah saw scanner lights doing a Dervisher dance.

Wi’ a sound like a Jumbo Jet takin’ off for’t Moon,
an’ knowin’ ah wern’t strapped in.
Ah watched as the lights spun rahnd and rahnd,
when I felt the sudden sharp stab o’ a pin.

“Deep breath!” boomed a voice like Darth Vader,
then, “Breathe normal!” and ah deflated reet fast.
Well ah didn’t want to be breathin’ oot ‘t next time ‘e spoke,
cos ah thowt me next breath might be me last.

Then ah hed visions of an Eskimo sittin’ on ice,
into which ‘e were drillin’ a neat hole.
Then 'e sat theer on me chest dousin’ fer fish,
using a bent pin tied wi’ cotton ti a pole

Then a Lass came an’ stuck a patch on me chest,
and just when ah thought ah hed caught wun.
A pretty young Nurse checked me fast beating heart,
and quipped, “Chuffin’ eck! ‘e’s gor a pulse like a three fifty Norton!”

But Joyce and I would really like to thank all the Lasses,
and not forgetting all the Lads.
Dedicated to helping all others
who fall foul of Mother Nature’s fancies and fads.

Should Joondalup Hospital change its name and become a holiday resort.
I would go there regularly and wi’ glee for a wee rest.
Because the people there that strive there for perfection,
are to my mind the best in the West.

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