The Dentist – a postscript

Two hours I sat in that chair
} While a child drilled holes in my tooth
} The dentist it seems WAS a grown up
} Though hard to believe so in truth.
} She brandished her sharp pointy weapons
} While her weight in amalgam was prepped
} Then she just about reached in my mouth
} With the aid of a white booster step.
} She gave me a hefty root filling
} And a crown costing hundreds of quid.
} She must have had dentistry lessons
} she was clearly a very smart kid
} Times passed and she’s probably grown,
} Yet again comes that small nagging voice
} Mrs R you should visit the dentist
} And this time you have little choice…
} I’m sat on a plane off to Greece
} I munch then I crunch and I frown
} Am I eating a bun full of bullets?
} How odd, oh my god it’s my crown!

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