The Doctors

Nowadays there’s little meaning
For a person to be gleaning
When a man attaches “Doctor” to his name
He may be a chiropractor
Or a painless tooth extractor
He’s entitled to the title just the same.

Or perhaps he is a preacher
Or a lecturer or teacher,
Or an expert who cures chickens of the pip;
He may keep a home for rummies,
Or massage fat people’s tummies,
Or specialize in ailments of the hip.

Everybody is a “doctor,”
From the backwoods herb concocter
To the man who takes bunions from your toes;
From the frowning dietician
To the snappy electrician
Who shocks you loose from all the body’s woes.

So there’s very little meaning
For a sufferer to be gleaning
When a man attaches “Doctor” to his name.
He may pound you, he may starve you,
He may cut your hair or carve you,
You have got to call him Doctor all the same!