THE WHOLE TOOTH
Fear is fundamental,
When we think of matters dental:
It's the nearest thing to warfare
When we drive up in our car there
To his door.
The worst thing is the waiting.
All our teeth are grating.
We realise our worst dreams,
As we hear the muffled screams
Of his victims.
Now our time is here
And we try to hide our fear,
As we shuffle to the door,
Slowly walk across the floor
To his chair.
Our mouth now opens wide,
As he sticks his head inside.
And though we are unwilling,
We agree to have a filling
With his drill.
An injection in the gum;
Wait 'til everything goes numb.
The heart begins to race
As he covers up his face
With his mask.
Then a frienzied state of fear
As the drill comes ever near.
Now a great noise fills the head,
We just hope that nerve is dead,
To his torture.
Drilling over, end of din;
Dribble mouthwash down the chin.
Now the the worst pain has relented,
Until we are presented
With his bill.
Copyright Peter Jones 1991