Two Trips to the Orthodontist

(a true story)

 

The orthodontist said to me,

the orthodontist cried,

‘When Adam says he’s cleaned his teeth

he’s obviously lied.

I cannot undertake to treat

a mouth so grim with plaque.

He must buck up his thoughts or else

I cannot have him back!’

 

‘And look’ she said, ‘these eye teeth here

both sport a little hole.

You should not bring the lad to me

where hygiene is the goal -

’cause people come you see, to me,

to fix a smiling face;

they come in here with wonky teeth

and go home with a brace.’

 

‘But folk who come with yellow teeth

my sense of self enrage.

Their bloody gums should ne’er be seen

upon my little stage.

I do not like their diets - or

their sugar-laden feeds.

I pack them off the same as you

to think upon their deeds.’

 

‘Oh woe is me!’ I cried aloud

when left to mull on this.

How could she find it in her heart

my little boy to dis?

So off we went the lad and I,

we zipped off in a rush

to buy some floss, some mouthwash and

an orthodontic brush.

 

The dentist fixed the holes and said

it really wasn’t much -

that orthodontists sometimes speak

in words of double-dutch.

‘Just brush them all each morn and night

and you can rest secure

within their gummy beds, Ad’s teeth

will never e’er be fewer.’

 

So Adam brushed and brushed and brushed,

he brushed his life away.

With inter-dental probes he poked

all risk of new decay.

With flossing here and flossing there

each tooth with brilliance beamed -

(so much in fact he lived his life

beside the sink it seemed.)

 

But, joy oh joy, what joy it was

to see that woman pleased,

as with her little mirror on

such cleanliness she seized.

My heart leapt up with rapture as

that orthodontist cried:

‘He says he’s done much better, and

I see he hasn’t lied…’