Waiting for the doctor Is enough to try your patience As you sit and watch the clock, your Getting older--yes, you're age-ins. You check the sharps container, And you take your own blood pressure. As for nerves, it is a strainer And it seems there is no measure. Counting all the gauzes And the cotton balls goes quickly, And inflating rubber gloveses Kind of makes you feel so sickly. The ceiling tiles are counted And the spots upon the floor. Could it be the place is haunted? There are sounds outside the door. When the doctor sees you, You can sure tell her for certains That the waiting rates a PU And you'd like to call it curtains.