The Physician-Blossom Dearie

Once I loved such a shattering physician, Quite the best looking doctor in the state, He looked after my physical condition And his bedside manner was great! When I'd gaze up and see him there above me, Looking less like a doctor than a Turk, I was tempted to whisper, "Do you love me, Or do you merely love your work?" He said my bronchial tubes were entrancing, My epiglottis filled him with glee, He simply loved my larynx And went wild about my pharynx, But he never said he loved me. He said my epidermis was darling And found my blood as blue as can be, He went through wild ecstatics About my lymphatics, But he never said he loved me. And though, no doubt, it was not very smart of me, I get on a-wracking of my soul, to figure out why he loved every part of me, And yet not me as a whole. By my esophagus he was ravished, Enthusiastic to a degree, He said 'twas just enormous, My appendix vermiformis, But he never said he loved me. He said my cerebellum was brilliant, And my cererum far from N G, I know he thought a lotta My medulla oblogota, But he never said he loved me. He said my maxillaries were marvels, And found my sternum stunning to see, He did a double hurdle When I shook my pelvic girdle, But he never said he loved me. He seemed amused, When he first made a test of me To further his medical art; Yet he refused, When he's fixed up the rest of me, To cure that ache in my heart. I know he thought my pancreas perfect, And for my spleen was keen as can be, He said, of all his sweeties, I'd the sweetest diabetes, But he never said he loved me.