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.