There once was a shrew,
Who, having little better to do,
Decided to pursue,
A career in medicine.
Being unable to cram,
For all of the exams,
He hatched a plan,
Both cunning and devious.
To emulate his betters,
And escape his social fetters,
He placed after his name the letters,
"M.D."
The fact is,
He set up a fake practice,
And hired an actress,
To play his receptionist.
Now set up,
In his medical get-up,
The shrew didn't let up,
But began a marketing campaign.
He placed an ad,
In his local rag,
Saying,"You'll be glad,
"You visited Dr. Shrew!"
The shrew was in his office,
Drinking the most recent of several coffees,
And anticipating his profits,
When in walked a patient.
Who said, "Doctor, I'm impotent,
"When I... hang on a moment!
"Aren't you some kind of rodent?"
The shrew had been found out.
Crying, "Oh no! A shrew!"
The patient hastily withdrew,
Causing something of a to-do,
In the waiting room.
He rapidly opined,
That those waiting had been blind,
Causing them to become inclined,
To violence, and aggressive acts.
The mob were less than gracious,
In fact they were somewhat pugnacious,
Shouting, "Get out here and face us!
"You nasty little animal!"
The shrew, his plans in disarray,
Found it rather imprudent to stay,
So he quickly sought a way,
To escape the situation.
Alas, the room was sealed!
His plot was now revealed,
So he prepared to field,
The inevitable barrage of questions and accusations.
The mob gave him no quarter,
"Little bastard! Why we oughta,
"Truss him up and have him slaughtered!"
Dr Shew was rapidly stamped to death.
To prevent this verse continuing ad nauseum,
The shrew was stuffed and placed in Bristol Museum,
Where, to this day, you can see him,
Just to the left of the capybara.
