Samantha Cinderella Scott

Samantha Cinderella Scott
was told she’d have to have a shot
The doctor said, “You’re somewhat sick;
I think a shot should do the trick.”

He said, “You shouldn’t feel a thing,
except perhaps a tiny sting,
a painless prick, a poke, a pinch.
It shouldn’t even make you flinch.

“You won’t begin to bleat or bawl.
I doubt that it will hurt at all.
I don’t expect to see it bruise
or swell your arm and start to ooze.

“There’s little chance of belly aches
or fevers, chills or sudden shakes.
It’s not supposed to cause a cough.
Your arm will likely not fall off.

“I’m guessing that there won’t be lots
of itchy red and purple spots.
Convulsions, too, are fairly rare.
I think you’ll get to keep your hair.

“In fact, the chance is nearly nil
that you’ll become intensely ill,
or grow a ghastly greenish hue,
or turn into a kangaroo.

“It’s nearly certain that you’ll not
become a fish or flowerpot.
I’m quite convinced it’s fair to say
you won’t turn into mush today.

“But if you start to shake and cough
or if your head should tumble off,
if you become a moose or mule
you’ll get a day away from school.”

Samantha Cinderella Scott
took just a moment, deep in thought,
then yawned the slightest little yawn,
and told the doctor “Bring it on!”