I don't see why Pa likes him so, <br /> And seems so glad to have him come; <br />He jabs my ribs and wants to know <br /> If here and there it's hurting some. <br />He holds my wrist, coz there are things <br /> In there, which always jump and jerk, <br />Then, with a telephone he brings, <br /> He listens to my breather work. <br /> <br />He taps my back and pinches me, <br /> Then hangs a mirror on his head <br />And looks into my throat to see <br /> What makes it hurt and if it's red. <br />Then on his knee he starts to write <br /> And says to mother, with a smile: <br />'This ought to fix him up all right, <br /> We'll cure him in a little while.' <br /> <br />I don't see why Pa likes him so. <br /> Whenever I don't want to play <br />He says: 'The boy is sick, I know! <br /> Let's get the doctor right away.' <br />And when he comes, he shakes his hand, <br /> And hustles him upstairs to me, <br />And seems contented just to stand <br /> Inside the room where he can see. <br /> <br />Then Pa says every time he goes: <br /> 'That's money I am glad to pay; <br />It's worth it, when a fellow knows <br /> His pal will soon be up to play.' <br />But maybe if my Pa were me, <br /> And had to take his pills and all, <br />He wouldn't be so glad to see <br /> The doctor come to make a call.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-doctor-10/
