THE SUFFERER
by
L.E. Baggaley & Edwin John (1934)

Performed by Pat O'Malley
(The Lancashire Lad)

ILLUSTRATION BY GEORGE PRICE

Now 'ospitals aren't cheerful places,
Not even the best, you'll agree;
But the one that fair gives you the 'orrors,
Is the one at Saint Earaches-on-Sea.

It says over the door, "English Martyrs,"
A name that inspires a doubt.
It's appropriate, tho', because many go in,
But very few live to come out.

Now a cousin of mine, name of Arnold,
'Oo went there for treatment last year,
Said the blooming place very nigh killed 'im,
And it all come about like this 'ere:

'E lay there one day, in a dark, dreary ward,
It's name was "The Angel of Death."
They'd all got such names, nice and sociable like,
When you saw 'em, you fair caught your breath.

Now our Arnold was not feeling robust,
And 'is face was a pale shade of green,
'E'd a mouth like a dustpan, and felt a bit queer,
Around where 'is appendix 'ad been.

A sour-faced nurse then entered,
And said, "You're to come right away.
Your operation must be done over again."
And the patient looked up and said, "Eh?"

She retorted, "No good being stupid,
Them scissors 'as got to be found.
They must be inside you, so Doctor Scull says,
And that's where they are, I'll be bound!'

Well our Arnold was always obliging,
'Twas a way that 'e'd 'ad all 'is life;
So 'e put on 'is slippers and followed 'er out,
And was shortly put under the knife.

The next day, a towel and a bandage were missed,
And Arnold was opened once more.
By then 'e began to get slightly annoyed,
Life for 'im seemed to be a large bore.

The staff at "The Martyrs," all laughed and agreed,
That this series of mis'aps, was funny,
And the Matron remarked, "Ah, the next time we slit'im,
We'd best fit a 'zip' on his tummy."

Well, the climax arrived of a Tuesday,
When they'd all gathered round 'im to gloat,
And the Matron said, "Ah, come, come, you're wanted again
Doctor Shroud's been and lost his white coat."

At that Arnold's patience failed 'im,
"Oh 'as 'e?" said 'e, "Where's me 'at?
Ah don't mind a towel, or scissors, and such,
But a jacket!... Ah'm not 'aving that.

"An instrument shelf, and a cupboard I've been,
Since I came 'ere, but three days ago.
But at being a cloakroom, gratuitous like,
Well, I'm drawing the line... Cheerio!"