Doctor Pullem

Doctor Pullem was a dentist quite beyond compare,
He’d fix the teeth of anyone who sat down in his chair.
He knew when it was best to pull, and when ‘twas best to fill,
And everybody said he was a demon with the drill.

However, in these dental works, there lay a king sized spanner,
Or, more precisely, Doctor Pullem lacked a bedside manner.
He simply couldn’t comprehend the fear that built inside
His patients, when he asked them to sit down and open wide.

He’d quickly open up their mouths and jab in the injection,
And then he’d swiftly set about the business of correction.
Before the patient could relax, before his mouth went numb,
Doctor Pullem would be poking tooth and nerve and gum.

Procrastination was a word he didn’t understand,
And liked to think himself the quickest dentist in the land,
Students came from all across the land to look and learn,
Though, strange to say, his many victims oft did not return.

And patients in the waiting room, they heard the screams and fled,
The tatty Hello magazines were left untouched, unread,
And Doctor Pullem soon was left with loads of time to kill,
With no-one he could torture with his scalpel and his drill.

Eventually his father came and took him by the hand,
And spelled out what the problem was, so he might understand,
“You’ll have to learn to slow things down,” he sensibly averred,
“Because you have no patience, son, in each sense of the word.”