Looking Down In The Mouth Poem by Kevin Hulme

Let it be known in all metre of Rhyme,
There's one career I was not programmed to be.
There's just to much ‘ Hammer Horror ‘ to make my head swoon,
As far as I could possibly see.
For a Career in Dentistry i'll give a miss,
And try something that's more genteel.
No Rinsing and Spit, or Braces to fit,
The Hypodermic to the cheek would be the worst of it,
Or just the fingers in the mouth for an Exploratory feel.
And no Children by the Schoolfull with spots and scabby knees,
All strangers to paste, for sugars their taste,
And their teeth just like old piano keys.
Away from the X Ray contraption,
The gallery of Liberace false smiles.
The antiseptic bright shine from the tools of the trade,
Near many a soul who has laid there and prayed,
In a menacing row with their variety of styles.
My idea of bliss, if I may be ever so bold,
Is a good life on an island in the Sun.
With those winsome ‘Dallas Cowboy' Cheering Girls, Not yanking some teeth from a series of gums.
If drilling and filling and polishing all day,
Is your idea of paying the rent.
Then please count me out, my stomach and I,
For a nice calming occupation I was surely so meant.