MY, WHAT BIG MUSCLES YOU HAVE, DOCTOR!

When you’re feeling poorly
Or you really are quite sick
A visit to the local doctor
Usually does the trick.
He or she will give you
An injection or a pill
Or some evil tasting medicine
To stop you feeling ill.
For most of us a visit
To the Doc holds no appeal
Unless of course, he happened 
To be handsome Neil Mac Neill.
Neil was the skilful doctor
To the folks at Cutter Gap
Tending to their aches and pains
And every small mishap
If disease was rife among them
Or a shocking wound loomed large
He was the one who always 
Automatically took charge.
He was blessed with surgeon’s hands, it’s true
And his talented research
Meant that no-one with trachoma
Would be left in the lurch
But whilst I’ve been observing 
Neil Mac Neill M.D
I’ve noticed he could hinder
A swift recovery.
The problem is, I have found out,
That if to me he’d speak,
His accent (not a dizzy spell)
Would make my knees go weak.
And if he ever diagnosed
A wildly beating heart,
Well, gazing at that gorgeous face
Had made the trouble start!
The cure is very simple
( I could tell him what I’d need)
A generous dose of “Doctor Love”
Recovery guaranteed!
I’d insist he take me riding
And when lifted on his horse
I’d smile and say “Why Doctor,
What big muscles you have!”
(Of course!)

by Susie