He went, at nine o'clock to bed <br />and in the morning was stone dead. <br />The doctor came to look and see <br />if they had thought of his big fee. <br /> <br />He saw the bottle of green pills <br />(he had prescribed them for all ills) , <br />and quickly took them from the sink <br />he did not need the wife to think <br /> <br />that something in the pills was phony, <br />and that the treatment was baloney. <br />For, in the end it was our God <br />who did decide and gave the nod. <br /> <br />Meanwhile the dead one, on his flight <br />up to the gates where well he might <br />gain entrance to the Paradise <br />had now begun to realise <br /> <br />that all the doctors in the world <br />should into raging seas be hurled, <br />unknown the fate of all disease <br />the doctor, though collects the fees.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/medicine-for-the-people/
