Here harken to the tale I tell
of little Lucinda;
by night and day she did rebel
against Nurse Philippa,
she lost weight, wailed, remained unwell,
which worried her Mamma.
In order all her fears to quell
we called a minicar,
rushed to St. Ormond's hospital,
which wasn’t very far.
The doctors wanted to dispel
the doubts our brows did bar.
But having heard her heartbeat swell,
they sent a camera
to photograph each tiny cell,
at which they said: “Ah, Ah!
we’ll have to operate as well,
there will be one long scar.”
We feared she’d ne’er again get well
after the theatre,
her pulse rate rose, her blood count fell,
fresh blood was her nectar.
But now, as sound as any bell,
Lucinda shines as star!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Operation by Jonathan ROBIN )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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