Bones

This poem always cracked me up…

Bones

Said Mr. Smith, “I really cannot
Tell you, Dr. Jones—
The most peculiar pain I’m in—
I think it’s in my bones.”

Said Dr. Jones, “Oh, Mr. Smith,
That’s nothing. Without doubt
We have a simple cure for that;
It is to take them out.”

He laid forthwith poor Mr. Smith
Close-clamped upon the table,
And, cold as stone, took out his bones
As fast as he was able.

Smith said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”
And wished him a good-day;
And with his parcel ‘neath his arm
He slowly moved away.

To read more of Walter de la Mare’s poetry, as well as a biography which states that de la Mare was related to poet, Robert Browning, go here.

To purchase a book of Walter de la Mare’s poems, go here.

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