The Mexico Clinic
By Rich Shewmaker (with apologies to Robert Service)
There are strange things done in the noonday sun,
In a Mexico border town,
Behind pink walls, the Devil calls,
But today he wears a frown.
He kind of groans, for the soul he owns,
Is the hoard of an ancient hag,
Who smiles today, for she's on her way,
To the bank with a money bag.
In this clinic stark, here is Hulda Clark,
She has fled from the law to hide,
With a heart that's black, this altie quack,
Is an evil personified.
She has found a way to make people pay,
This filthy entrepreneur.
She plays her trick on the desperate sick.
Sells a non-existent cure.
There's nothing you've heard, that's more absurd,
Than her claims for her "syncrometer."
But it's just the bait to catch those with a date,
To visit old St. Peter.
Her voice gets most shrill when she says doctors kill,
You with knives and with poisons and nukes.
What causes of cancer? This witch has an answer.
It's South Asian liver flukes.
She'll sell you a Zapper in a plain brown wrapper,
Guaranteed to cure what offends.
And when that's done its work, this altie quack jerk,
Will sell you a liver cleanse.
She'll make sure you're clean from your ass to your spleen,
And if your wallet's not cleaned out as well,
It's then time to send you to see her best friend,
The "holistic" dentist from hell.
Yes, there are strange things done in the noonday sun,
By this doctor who's not a physician.
By the clinic gates, a car there waits,
That's owned by the local mortician.
It waits for those who are in the last throes,
Of death, and it's not the least funny,
Though they didn't thrive, Hulda kept them alive,
'Til they finally ran out of money.