Seven Ages Of Teeth - From Cradle To Grave - Poem by Pamela Ann Frances Crane

1.

Toothypegs icumen in,
Proudly say Goo-goo!
Chew the swede
And spew the feed
And bawl till you are blue -
Say Goo-goo!

Molar breaketh through the gum,
Tooth after tooth comes through;
Baby champs
And clings to Gramps,
And sendeth us cuckoo -
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
We long for sleep,
Worn out by *bleep*
Goo-goo!


2.

Yum diddle Lidl Lidl Yum diddle I
Yum diddle Lidl Lidl Yum diddle I...

My mother couldn’t make me eat
- and me a growing lass -
I hated milk and spud and meat
And cabbage gave me gas.
But then I found a magic snack
That saved my appetite
And got my Mum’s approval back,
My peggies strong and white! ...

Oh! SuperCalciFractElasticExtraChunky CheezWhiz -
Even tho’ the taste of it
Superlatively pleases,
If you chomp it hard enough
Your fillings fall to pieces,
SuperCalciFractElasticExtraChunky CheezWhiz!


3.

If you can keep your teeth when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on genes;
If you can brush and floss when dentists doubt you,
(But make allowance for their slender means):
If you can brace, not be put off by bracing,
But being smiled at, dazzle with your smiles,
And being picky don't need teeth replacing,
And still keep walking tall, despite your piles;

If you can talk with crowns and keep your diction,
And tweet and Skype and blog to keep in touch,
If you would keep your teeth free of affliction
And savings count with you - but not too much -
If you can fill the Application Form out
For BUPA dental care from year to year,
Yours is the Mouth and nothing will be worn out,
And what is more - you'll have a Plan, my dear!


4.

'Is there anybody there? ' asked the Sufferer,
Knocking on the lamplit door;
And his car in the silence spewed exhaust
On the city’s dirty floor;
And a bat flew out of the gutter,
Above the Sufferer's head:
And he banged on the door a second time;
'Is there anybody there? ' he said.
But no one came down to the Sufferer;
No head from the soot-stained sill
Leaned over and looked into his pained eyes,
Where he stood distressed and still.
But only a host of phantom dentists
That drilled in the clinic then
Stood listening in the quiet lamp-light
To that cry from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint dust-beams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air shaken (not stirred...)
By the weary Sufferer's call.
And he sensed in his gut their strangeness,
Their muteness meeting his cry,
While his car moved - he’d left the handbrake off -
'Neath the starless and murky sky;
So he suddenly hammered the door, even
Harder, and shook his head: -
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
I kept my appointment, ' he said.
Not the least stir made their receptionists,
Though every word he spoke
Fell echoing through the shadowy rooms of the clinic
From this single desperate bloke:
Oh, they heard him put his foot down,
And the grind of tyres on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the racing wheels were gone.


5.

O Dentist! my Dentist! our fearful job’s not done;
The lips must weather every crack, the prize we seek be won;
The lamp is near, the drill I fear, assistants all preparing,
While follow eyes the steady hand, the visage grim and glaring:
But O teeth! teeth! teeth!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the bib my fillings lie,
My face and tongue quite dead.

O Dentist! my Dentist! rise up and hear the bell;
Rise up - for you the phone has rung - for you appointments swell;
For you bookings and urgencies, the waiting-room a-crowding;
For you they call; the patients mass, their aching faces shrouding;
Revolve, O doors! and ring, O bells!
But I, with thankful tread,
Walk mended from the surgery...
My face and tongue quite dead.


6.

Who has seen my teeth? ...
Neither I nor you.
So when my lips hang trembling
No food is passing through.

Who has seen my teeth? ...
Neither you nor I.
So when my friends avert their heads
Old Gummy’s passing by.


7.

An old hippie optimist was standing one day
With a drink from his favourite jar.
He gazed at the optic as he tumbled and lay
In the light of the Tap Room and Bar.
Away in the Ladies sat combing her hair
His dear hippie potty old mate;
While she was retiring her chap was expiring
From bugs that bred under his plate.

Teeth, teeth, carious teeth -
Nothing could stop them
From rotting beneath.
So follow him follow,
He’s booked for tomorrow;
Inter him with sorrow
And carious teeth.