The Doctor & the Farmer's Wife's Tale

Oh what a glorious sight to see, wholesome produce which today is free
Fortune replenishes my healthy folk, by sowing hardy seed the fruit awoke
Dear Madam your hands did give birth, to vigorous crops aplenty on this Earth

Give praise to the stamina of the field, which grants bounty in the farmer’s yield

A tiller more proud there cannot be, I thank the root the stalk and the tree
For gifting gentry with such a boon, to delight night morning & afternoon

Dear Doctor it’s purely thanks to thee, your science your potions & your esprit

Without which us poor sufferers are lost, and thus condemned to bear the cost

Dear Madam you are a credit to the community, afflicted albeit by grievous malady
A burden so great do you bear, to provide ungrateful townsfolk with wholesome fare
Labour & industry serve as your belief, insomnia & arthritis do gift you with grief
A beacon of charity like Louise de Marillac, you bear the weight of servitude on your back

Dear Doctor be it as it may, vice incurs debts that I am obliged to pay
I strive to croon to my inner soul, to rid myself of that which takes its toll
But bliss is solely procured by opioid, without which I plunge into the infernal void
Sensing the hit within my thoroughfares, gives me strength to produce my wares

Sufferers are lured and go astray, botanicals enrapture forever and a day
Aloof to the counsel of medical sagesse, they display neither temperance nor finesse
Dear Madam your confidence may I save, until six foot beneath in my grave
To Hippocrates I do remain steadfast, to Erasmus allegiance until the last

Lucky are those devoid of devilish affliction, science discipline sobriety and erudition
Shepherd the path of the enlightened, towards the undefiled truth heightened
Dear Doctor your succor brings me asunder, your alms resonate like the loudest thunder
My veins pulse amok at your every word, your relief sparks me as a fledgling bird

Dear Madam may I draw your attention, to Satan’s work I don’t dare to mention
Heretics and freaks only deserve short shrift, and can only expect a malignant gift
Damned be the merging of caste and shade, forbidden is the union of ruby and jade
For the ides of Cancer can only forebode, for those who dare to question the code

Dear Doctor you have my undivided attention, I see that of which you allude to mention
Heretics and freaks only deserve short shrift, and can only expect a malignant gift
Damned be the merging of unhearing and cripple, may metastasis abound from the tainted nipple
Fate knocks at the deaths of dusk, to impale the green jewel upon its tusk

The silent wailing of ultimate despair, is rather too much for me to bear
Let them be with their lives in tatters, for I have in mind much more urgent matters
Dear Madam in the morn’ if you’re free, pray come and visit my surgery
To receive medicinal vials as a token, of goodwill fervour & words unspoken

Judgement alone awaits the forsaken, their profanity into account will be taken
The wretched do indeed our conscience defile, from our hearts may they enjoy the sweetest exile
Dear Doctor in the morn’ with brimming hamper, will I call on thee to pamper
The finest victuals raised in my domain, in return pray assuage my theatre of pain