Mr. Keats, Surgeon, to Z., of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine
When I have fears that you may cease to pee
Before my probe has sounded your urethra,
Before I've rushed you to my surgery
To check you out for stones with neither ether nor
Chloroform for the pain (not yet discovered!);
When I consider how you might lie strapped
Upon my table whilst my blade has hovered
Over you for an hour (Now you're trapped!);
And when you squeal, squeal in a piggy voice
That henceforth you'll be kind to fledgling bards,
That editors had given you no choice,
Led as they were by Bacchus and his pards,
I may relent, savoring how you knock knees
When treated by myself and licensed Cockneys.
Easier version, for the competition:
Mr. Keats, Surgeon, to Z., of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine
When I have fears that you may cease to be
Before my knife has scored your tumid brain,
Before I've rushed you to my surgery
To find more painful treatments for your pain;
When I consider how you might lie strapped
Here on my table, whilst my blade has hovered
Over you for an hour (Now you're trapped!)
Probing for some ill that may be discovered;
And when I hear you squeal, your piggy voice
Crying you'll be more kind to fledgling bards,
That editors had given you no choice,
Led as they were by Bacchus and his pards,
I may relent, savoring how you knock knees
When treated by myself and other Cockneys.
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