We pathologists, wise men say, are obsessed with food,
I, for once, dunno if that's bad or good.
When you sit down to a hearty meal,
Do you think it's such a big deal,
That a serving of piping hot pea soup
Takes you through a typhoidal gut loop ?
Or, the sight of anchovy sauce makes you shiver,
`cos it only means—amoebic abscess of the liver !
When soft, creamy pudding studded with sago
Reminds one of the spleen you cut not long ago;
You switch to plain bread and butter,
Not unlike a rheumatic heart that went aflutter.
When the aroma of fresh, crunchy popcorn
Brings memories of your pal Hodgkin,
you know pathology has gotten under your skin.
Strawberries and mulberries, worth a lick,
Give you a biliary and renal colic;
The redcurrant jelly gives an ache in the belly,
you know the matter ain't so silly.
Swiss cheese with a dash of nutmeg, buff coloured buns with fried egg,
Chicken wire and mutton leg; leave us alone, please, they beg !
Let's be original, rising above the culinary level,
Lest we battle indigestion in the bowel,
making us moan, groan and cry,
and ending up as a “row of tombstones” against a “starry sky” !