Englebert Grocis

Had multiple noses

Which grew on the end of his chin,

And the doctor arose

With the sad diagnosis

That Englebert’s tonsils grew in.

*

“Oh what can we do?”

Asked his wife, in a stew,

And the doctor, in lowered tones, said

That all he could do

Was to treat him for ‘flu:

Prescribe aspirin and send him to bed.

*

So Englebert Grocis,

Upon this prognosis,

Retired to his bedroom and slept,

But his sweat was ferocious,

His bladder atrocious,

And, by morning, his knees were inept.

*

The panicking doctor

Sent out for the Proctor

Of Englebert’s famous old school,

Who advised they adopt

A defence of the oxter

And keep his pituitary cool.

*

Thus Englebert Grocis,

Displaying moroseness,

Was stored in a fridge overnight

In the hope that the bonus

Of frost in great doses

Would keep him away from the light.

*

Upon his unpacking,

They found he was lacking

The usual number of arms

Whilst the unusual stacking

Of glands on his back,

In all truth, seemed to indicate harm.

*

So Englebert’s doctor,

His wife and the Proctor,

With choices diminishing fast,

Decided to opt for

A last-chance apocryphal

Cure, lest their patient should pass.

*

“Despite his revulsion,

A can of emulsion,

If smeared on his body in floods,

Might bring on convulsions

To speed the propulsion

Of pathogens out of his blood.”

*

So Englebert Grocis

(Now gripped by psychosis)

Was sprayed – head to toesies – in black,

But for all his neuroses

His post-mortem shows us

He died of a bad art attack.

.