Join Us Here Each Week My Friends

Sit right back and you'll hear the tale
the tale of a fateful trip
of going to the doctor's
for kids that felt like shit.

The father person had the strep
The mom she knocked on wood,
brought her sick brood to the doctor like
a good mother should
(a good mother should)

We sat in the tiny waiting room
a festering petri dish
For two long hours we did wait
before we had our turn

The kids they touched every single toy
every handle, every knob
they used the bathroom, licked the chairs
my head began to throb
(I'm glaring now at Rob)

Finally they all went in
had their throats swabbed one by one
It was by this point we were having
so much goddamn fun
(so much goddamn fun)

Fifteen dollars for each kid
A hefty check I wrote
And sat back down in the petri dish
while waiting for results

No strep! No Strep!
the doctor said, "Not a single strepy germ"
and so the seven circus clowns
went a tumbling out the door

We said good bye, but do not fear
I'm sure we'll soon be back
to give our dying bank account
another good ole whack.

And now I wonder what they'll get
from the germy waiting room.
Can I dunk the kids in a vat of bleach
to disinfect them good?
(like a good mother should)