Doctor Of The Night

DOCTOR OF THE NIGHT

I've told you before and I'll tell you again
You don't just kill him, you eat his brain.
Vegetarian principles no longer apply
If you don't want them raw have them stir fry
Baked or boiled or roast
Personally I love 'em on toast
Undead means no more humanitarianism
Zombies go more for primeval canibalism
Take two fingers twice nightly
And try to look more unsightly
If the symptoms persist I'll have to insist
That you come back next week
Because you'll make yourself weak
If you don't eat your meals.
Trust me, I know how it feels
The first time you try it
But zombies can't choose their diet.
Soon the hungry craving will set you raving
So off you go and drive round in your car
See people on the streets as your abattoir
Invite someone home
Invite 'em in and strip 'em to the bone.
I don't like to see my patients off their food
So off you go, to have someone stewed.

**********

DOCTOR OF THE NIGHT - NEXT PATIENT

Casualty just paged me.
We're expecting an emergency
Brought in by Burke and Hare
Who've been working over there,
They volunteered to give us a lift
By helping out on the graveyard shift.
The crash team are taking care
Of a freshly dug up mummified druid
In desperate need of an embalming fluid
Transfusion amidst a great deal of confusion
As to his exact cause of death.
We'll discover more when he catches his breath
But it sounds as though he was set on fire
And found round his neck was a cheese-wire,
Garotte, tied in a knot, as well as which he also got
Drowned in a bog, and choked with a frog
Stuffed down his throat , and what gets my goat
Is that it looks like ritual suicide
Which as you know should never be tried
Without proper medical supervision.
Many people assume it's superstition
But coming back from the dead
Isn't as easy as is often said
Though I think this patient will pull through
And we'll do all that we can do
But I wish he had come back as a vampire instead
Wrapping up mummies is a job I really dread.
It uses up every bandage in sight
And we have to bind him up very tight
And once they're on they cannot be changed.
If you touch them mummies become quite deranged.
Many a time a new doctor or nurse
Has fallen foul of the mummy's curse,
And faced a truly terrifying rampage
Just for trying to change the patients bandage.

*****
DOCTOR OF THE NIGHT - Third patient

There's a silver bullet stuck in your gullet
Someone you abused got confused
Betwixt werewolf and vampire
And tried to beat you with gunfire.
You're very fortunate
That the man you ate
Didn't have stakes and what it takes
To get his monsters right
Or you wouldn't be here tonight

******

DOCTOR OF THE NIGHT 4th PATIENT

We've got a bit of a problem
With O'Malley the golum
He's feeling depressed
And over-stressed
Can we do house calls
Before he jumps or falls?
He won't kill himself
If he leaps off the shelf
But the gargoyles are moaning
And the vampires are groaning
About him on the church steeple
It could draw attention from people.
He needs an assignment
His minds' out of alignment.

He can only follow orders, damn it!
The man's made of granite.
Just give him a thrill,
Send him off to kill
Someone, anyone, find one at random
Get Mrs. Johnson, she lives in Camden.

To save our Golum, all it took
Was sticking a pin in a page of the phone book.

*********

DOCTOR OF THE NIGHT (5th PATIENT)

His pulse is weak. This time next week He'll wreak
Havoc. His heart's beating slow? Oh no! Hold on Doc.
I think we're gaining the patient. There's still sufficient Life signs
present, sporadic &; infrequent though they be
You can see that we have to open another vein
To make absolutely sure his lovely little brain
Registers no more vital signs and that he flatlines
Out for us. With any luck he'll be dead in about
A minute or so. Then we can go ahead and graft his head
Onto our other dead body and the moment we see
Him open his new eyes and just as soon as he tries
To get himself a drink, we ought to offer him cold blood.
That'll do him the world of good.
He'll probably want a mirror fetching in,
So he can see how bad lookin'
He is now with his nice new second hand head.

As for poor old Fred, he'll be happier now he's dead.
He'll come to see that way eventually.
The poor sod only came to see me
About a sick note like the last dozen or so I wrote
To get the bone idle little burke out of going to work
By claiming that he had a nasty double hernia
(He's been in our freezer for weeks so I guess he's got
hypothermia).
I've committed involuntary euthanasia this time,
Which technically speaking might be a crime
But I needed a brain donor, and Fred was a bit of a loner.
No one will miss him, but still he tried his best to survive,
And to keep himself alive. He'll be glad that his brain will
thrive
On keeping our great benefactor going
(For God's sake Igor, pay attention to your sewing!
We don't want his head falling off
Again when he has to laugh or cough.)
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, Fred!
Like I said, he's better off dead.
He'll get over the initial shock and sorrow.
The good news is he won't have to work tomorrow
Or ever again, now he no longer owns his own brain.
Because he took us by surprise by fighting so hard to live
I've decided he deserves a special prize. I'm going to give
Him immortality of a kind in keeping with his personality.
I've managed to keep his soul with us right here
His ectoplasm's in that box over near
The leeches and the voodoo dolls.
A couple of gangsters and their molls
Came in a while back. They're planning an assault
On a high security bank vault.
It's going to be a very unusual heist
Involving diversions created by a poltergeist
With which they hope to distract security
With an angry ghost they hope to buy from me
So Fred is ideally suited for the job at hand.
When they get in the bank they open the box and stand
Well back letting Fred throw things and make a racket
While they sneak round the guards and make a packet
Followed by a quick getaway. What will the guards say
When the police ask about what happened?
"There was a ghost throwing stuff about up the other end
Of the vault, it's not our fault. We were robbed by the evil
dead."
We'll get our share of the loot and all thanks to poor dead Fred.

Arthur Chappell