Jim Hopkins is a week late for poetry day, but it’s worth the wait:
Bring back the treadle drill of old
So says this well-filled cynic
Bring back the antiseptic hell
That was the Dental Clinic
Bring back the mental dental nurse
Whose shoes squeaked on the floor
Bring back that chloroformic smell
You sniffed outside the door
Bring back the stiff starched uniform
The stockings thick and white
Bring back the throbbing molars
And the eyes shut, terror tight
Bring back the nightmare visit
Mercurial and sinister
Bring back the taste of smoke in mouth
And share it with a Minister
Say, one who can’t remember
Who gave him all his dough
And one who says that who paid what
Are things he doesn’t know
To jog his failing memory
And revive his fiscal nous
Just sit him down at a treadle drill
Bring back the Murder House!!!!!!!!
Homepaddock 