by John Yeo
Mild-mannered Mr Smith was a monster,
He always raised his hat to the ladies
As he passed them by in the street
A well respected man in the town,
Never once did he speak out of turn
The quietest monster you ever could meet.
The mild-mannered monster, Mr Smith,
Always raised his cup with his left hand
When he joined us for afternoon tea.
His finger raised in polite etiquette
His polished shoes were shiny and neat.
The infamous monster Mr Smith
Mr Smith was a polite, mild monster,
He wore a white coat had a friendly grin
As he opened his door and ushered us in
His hands were always spotless and gloved
As he asked us to sit in his torture chair.
When he welcomed us into his lair.
The bloodthirsty monster Mr Smith
Was always full of good cheer
His drill and his tools shining bright,
Instruments of torture neatly laid out
Always polite and brimming with care
He knew his victim was trembling with fear.
Mr Smith was a well-loved monster
After he had drilled and pulled
With patience to remove the pain
After the bloody operation was over
Goodbye he smiled through perfect teeth
You are welcome to come again.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo
All rights reserved