The Doctor Is In

I have been reading a bit of horror poetry lately and also was sorting out my daughters Dr. Seuss books at the weekend. Naturally, I’m just sitting here on my lunch break and this pops into my head:

Find the way, the way today,
the way gets in the way of play.

To play, that has such a nice ring,
but father needs to do some thing.

He keeps machines in lots of sheds,
to be used removing peoples heads.

The heads he keeps in great big jars
I ask who’s are they? He says they’re thars.

He says this thing will be quite fun,
to hide them quickly, then we’ll run.

We move soft mud and dig the soil,
we go quite deep, we really toil

and when they are quite out of sight,
he says come on, we’ll take a flight.

We’ll leave upon a flying machine,
forget everyone we’ve ever seen.

When we arrive we’ll play a game
that’s similar, but not the same.

I can go with him, he’ll teach me rules
of a funny fun game, that’s not for fools.

He says we’ll wait and count to ten,
then we’ll go hunting heads again.

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