doctor frolic - james patrick stuart lyrics
felicity the healer isn’t young
and you don’t look him up unless you need him
clown’s eyes, pope’s nose, a mouth for dirty stories
he made his bundle in the great depression
and now, a jovial immigrant success
in baggy pinstripes, he winks and wheezes gossip
village stories that could lift your hair
or lance a boil; the small town dirt, the dope
the fishy deals and incestuous combinations
the husband and the wife of his wife’s brother
the hospital contract, the certificate …
a realist and hardy omnivore
he strolls the jetties when the month is right
with a knife and lemons in his pocket, after
live mussels from among the smelly rocks
preventative of impotence and goitre
and as though the sight of tissue healing crooked
pleased him, like the ocean’s v*g*n*l taste
he’ll stitch your thumb up so it shows for life
and where he once was the only quack in town
we all have heard his half*lame joke, the one
about the operation that succeeded
the tangy line that keeps that clever eye
so merry in the punchinello face
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