Robosurgeon For Jerry H. Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The surgeon entered, red of face,
silence descended on the place.
A sister asked about the 'bot
the answer simply was a NOT.

He had, while scrubbing, seen him linger
while showing all his metal finger,
you see those robosurgeons try
to operate on any guy

or sheila (well-endowed or small) :
they cut into the sternal wall
with teensie microscopic tools
and call the human surgeons fools.

There is, so let it be revealed
the factor time until it's healed,
which, closely linked to size of hole
must be each patient's premier goal.

Get out before they break the bank
permit me, ladies, to be frank
and may I ask, do you prefer
the robot be a him or her?

Machines that stare on to your boobs
while playing with two Rubik's Cubes,
and reading all about the crimes
inside the paper called The Times,

while watching Spinzones on the Fox
and figuring potential stocks,
a robosurgeon has no toes
and never needs to pick its nose,

there is no nagging from a spouse
no mortgage on the high set house.
So, tell me, ladies, Jerry, Mate
you have the choice, to trust your fate

in man with all his silly traits
or in the one who lacerates
without emotions, fear or lust?
I think a robot is a MUST!


Dedicated to my good friend OSTBF (Eisernes Kreuz 1.Kl.) Jerry Hughes. In the firm belief that even a human surgeon will not
be able to silence him. Das Volk drueckt die Daumen.