That little black drill!
its whirring is still
In my mind's ear, as down comes the "crane,"
And tackles the rock
Of my teeth with a shock,
And raises - not dirt- but Old Cain.
Those cables and pulleys
Are demoniac bullies
That scare me to stark rigor mortis;
Cuts a cute dental caper -
But with torture as slow as a tortoise
The balm - novacain -
Takes away all the pain,
But there's something about that tooth-drilling
That puts crimps and curves
In a smooth set of nerves,
And sets the blood stream all a-chilling
If I miss the bus
To Heaven, and thus
Have to serve time on Hades' hot grill -
Til my conscience is clear -
Let me roast 'til I'm sere,
But don't use that little black drill.