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.