I've tried the high-toned specialists, who doctor folks to-day; <br />I've heard the throat man whisper low 'Come on now let us spray'; <br />I've sat in fancy offices and waited long my turn, <br />And paid for fifteen minutes what it took a week to earn; <br />But while these scientific men are kindly, one and all, <br />I miss the good old doctor that my mother used to call. <br />The old-time family doctor! Oh, I am sorry that he's gone, <br />He ushered us into the world and knew us every one; <br />He didn't have to ask a lot of questions, for he knew <br />Our histories from birth and all the ailments we'd been through. <br />And though as children small we feared the medicines he'd send, <br />The old-time family doctor grew to be our dearest friend. <br />No hour too late, no night too rough for him to heed our call; <br />He knew exactly where to hang his coat up in the hall; <br />He knew exactly where to go, which room upstairs to find <br />The patient he'd been called to see, and saying: 'Never mind, <br />I'll run up there myself and see what's causing all the fuss.' <br />It seems we grew to look and lean on him as one of us. <br />He had a big and kindly heart, a fine and tender way, <br />And more than once I've wished that I could call him in to-day. <br />The specialists are clever men and busy men, I know, <br />And haven't time to doctor as they did long years ago; <br />But some day he may come again, the friend that we can call, <br />The good old family doctor who will love us one and all.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-family-doctor/
