The doctor's surgery is filled with woes,
Including many who blow their nose,
Some with aches hard to diagnose,
With back pains and swelling toes.
A number given, a prescription written
Having caught them in the waiting room
Where others did fret and fume
No sooner is their illness over,
Than a new one do they discover
And wonder where on earth it came
As off to the surgery they trot again Better they were treated in the Town Hall square
Where no diseases they could share
Rather than in countryside free
Lest they develop BSE. I Platt, Thornton Avenue
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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