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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