Plague Songs - It Cures What Ails Ya! / by Rich Hobbs

One should not mock the chronic sick,

And nor should we mock Dominic

Whose road-based therapies recall,

Damascus-bound, those of St Paul

Who was, you lot should be reminded,

On a road trip when unblinded.

Dom need make no apology!

It’s not just opthalmology

That sees Road Treatment’s benefits!

It’s a cure-all for the many! It’s

A  tested and well tried procedure

From whooping cough to paraplegia!

For instance, the old dean of Keble’s

Gout’s returned: drive him to Peebles!

Abjure the lure of penicillin!

Simply drive to Inniskillin!

Infantile paralysis?

Why not try a drive to Diss? 

Your child it born with a cleft palate;

Drive the brat to Shepton Mallet!

A cerebral catastrophe?

Fixed by a drive to Leigh-on-Sea. 

You find your mum’s airways restricted?

Motor her to the Peak District;

A femur pops out of its socket?

Drive all the way to Drumnadrochit.

Obviously, you have a stroke,

It’s in the car to Basingstoke;

And likewise cardiac arrest

Demands a drive to Bristol West!

So if your stomach ulcer bleeds

Jump in the car and drive to Leeds;

Carries rot your yellow teeth,

They gleam before you’ve got to Neath;

Struck down with Huntingdon’s Chorea?

Simply drive to Hazelmere.

A touch of cancer? With a whoosh

Drive off to Ashby-de-la-Zouche!

And when they say you’ve caught malaria - 

Hull Regeneration Area!

Just even feeling sort of sick

You’ll cure on drives to Walberswick

And when they say you’ve got Corona

A nice long drive to Barcelona

Should see you right! Whate’er you have

Just punch a route in your sat nav

And soon, on the A23,

You’ll find the perfect remedy!

All you have to do is DRIVE! It

Cures what ails ya! Or go private.