by Stephen Gold

“Two family doctor surgeries are closing their doors every week”
—The Times

Are you feeling unwell?
Do you have a foul smell?
Are there gallons of sweat on your brow?
Here’s the thing you should know:
There is nowhere to go.
The doctor won’t see you now.

In our wondrous G.B.,
We are treated for free.
It’s a model we’re proud of, and how.
But it’s perfectly clear
That the end times are near.
The doctor won’t see us now.

In these troublesome days,
What can cure this malaise?
It’s an arduous furrow to plough.
When the docs have all fled,
We should simply drop dead,
Then no one need see us now.