When I Grow Up and Become a Veterinarian
By Robert Romig, Nikiski
My mom asked me one day when I was eating my dinner:
What will you choose as your life’s occupation?
An Animal Doctor, I said.
But in place of ointments and pills and all kinds of medication,
I’ll give my patients ice cream and candy instead.
I’ll give cotton candy to weasels,
To cure them of the measels.
And licorice jelly beans,
To frogs with ruptured spleens,
Instead of performing a very risky operation.
I’ll give Neapolitan milkshakes,
To wolverines with toothaches.
And sugary English figs,
To seasick Yorkshire pigs,
Instead of prescribing a very bitter medication.
When I grow up and become a veterinarian,
I’ll be positively absolutely sure,
That there’s never been any animals ailment,
That a great big bowl of ice cream can’t cure.
I’ll give caribous with rubella,
Large bowls of FrenchVanilla.
And chocolate Easter eggs,
To moose with broken legs,
Instead of performing a very messy amputation.
I’ll give cherry ripple spumoni,
To cure a coughing pony.
And coconut filbert swirl,
To treat a snow blind squirrel,
Instead of injecting a very painful vaccination.
When I grow up and become a veterinarian,
I’ll be very happy like a kangaroo.
Cause my patients leave after medical treatment,
Feeling just like they’re completely brand new.
Yes, it’s true.
Feeling just like they’re completely brand new.
From the largest grizzly to the smallest shrew.
