In a bed that’s just a tad too short
There’s time enough for every thought
Days are long, boredom complete
Food’s not bad, if you can eat.
The doctor’s been at half past eight
Grunted and left me to my fate
My room-mate snored and coughed all night
But he’s a nice old guy, so that’s alright.
The nurses come and do their thing
Take my blood, ask ‘Does it sting?’
I’m hooked up to all sorts of stuff
That must be why I’m feeling rough.
The hospital is old and shows its years
But its personnel can have no peers
Doctors, nurses and all the rest
In Alicante, they’re the best!
(a poem by Malcom Palmer)