(I have just had a heart pacemaker fitted.  Invited in, operated on and discharged inside 24 hours)

 

It marked walkers passing for seventy years

But been a bit stiff as of late;

For once it swung free

And closed easily

But now it’s an old creaking gate.

 

But Time can regenerate Glory again

By dint of the old craftsman’s care;

With tools of his trade

His miracles made

Long lasting and skilful repair.

 

The well-worn old latch would no longer catch

And home with a snap into place

But with skill well rehearsed

Its action was nursed back

To smooth and effortless grace.

 

Its posts and its rails had rotted and failed

And useless as they first appeared;

But the sharp surgeon’s knife

Extended its life,

Gifting it many more years.

 

Their movement impinged, each loose iron hinge

Had rusted from years in the rain

But through doctors’ toil

And liberally oiled

It no longer groaned in its pain.

 

The once proud red paint was now peeled and faint;

The whole seemed resigned to its fate

But craftsmen redeemed

Its vigour; it seemed

No longer an old creaking gate.

 

When I came to pay, “We’re not USA”

Said the tradesman, “There isn’t a fee”

You see how we’re blessed

With our NHS

The service is all done for free.