I took my poems to an English Doctor, because they were quite ill
he looked them over, checked them out and gave me his huge bill,
he said that they were sick and then he offered me
a procedure that was sure to cure, a Semi-Colonoscopy.

I asked him what the problem was, he said he had no doubt
the cause of my bad poetry, is the flippin' meter's out,
I was sitting there in shock, stiff like atrophy
wondering what the dangers are with a Semi-Colonoscopy.

He said it won't take long, an insertion maybe two
and my poems will come out like they are all brand new,
this idea was horrific, I worried how they'd be
after all the work I'd done, now a Semi-Colonoscopy.

I went and saw my priest to Pray for my sad verse
he Prayed that all my poems wouldn't end up in a hearse,
we looked towards the sky, as we got down on our knees
and asked for great success with this Semi-Colonoscopy.

The English Doctor all dressed up had a pen and writing pad
he was in a hurry to fix my rhythm because it was so bad,
he really was expensive, he would not work for free
to breathe new life into my work with a Semi-Colonoscopy.

He went about his job, while I paced up and down
time went by so slowly, my face became a frown
suddenly he came to me, he inserted twenty-three
but it would be an ongoing thing, this Semi-Colonoscopy.

Your rhyme and your rhythm, he said, must always freely flow,
or, my poor patient, all you can produce is prose,
all within each sentence should like your soul fly free,
that's why you're undergoing this Semi-Colonoscopy.

I thought, perhaps, you had a chance to make it well in life,
with poetry well written, and penned as smooth as ice.
but looking at what you've got here and boldly given me,
it seems you might, daily require, this Semi-Colonoscopy.

I took hold of my poem and tears poured down my face,
what can I do, doctor please, to get back in the race?
sit right there and drop your ink, he said, for everyone to see,
and let's do it correct right here in this Semi-Colonoscopy.

I winced and cried and finally gave a clear resounding shout,
I didn't know what was really wrong and what this was all about,
he made this trouble seem as though, the problem all was me,
and deep down I know its source this Semi-Colonoscopy.

I came to make my poetry well and not to build my strife,
but he made me pay good money I had promised to my wife.
My poetry was good all along, so he should have let it be,
and never did I really need this Semi-Colonoscopy.