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He drove a huge Merceded Benz
and wore the mask of confidence.
From Hollywood the ladies came,
they trusted his Italian name.
I called him Vince, he was inept
yet this small secret was well-kept.
The stars relaxed, exposed their pelvis
his grin reminded them of Elvis.
He looked and fiddled as they shivered
yet all the babies were delivered
by young assistants who were learning
obstetrics where they would be earning,
some day, a pile just like the chief.
As internship is very brief,
a resident must know his stuff.
This chief, though, never knew enough.
He'd smear some blood from the supply
onto his forehead, near the eye.
And in the waiting room he spoke
(his voice now brittle as it broke) ,
'It was a devil of a task,
about the details do not ask.
They are both fine, yet touch and go
demands the knowledge of a pro.'
I have not met a bigger quack
than Dr. Vince, four decades back.
Herbert Nehrlich
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