We pathologists, wise men say, are obsessed with food,
 I, for once, dunno if that's bad or good.
 When you sit down to a hearty meal,
 Do you think it's such a big deal,
 That a serving of piping hot pea soup
 Takes you through a typhoidal gut loop ?
 Or, the sight of anchovy sauce makes you shiver,
 `cos it only means—amoebic abscess of the liver !
 When soft, creamy pudding studded with sago
 Reminds one of the spleen you cut not long ago;
 You switch to plain bread and butter,
 Not unlike a rheumatic heart that went aflutter.
 When the aroma of fresh, crunchy popcorn
 Brings memories of your pal Hodgkin,
 you know pathology has gotten under your skin.
 Strawberries and mulberries, worth a lick,
 Give you a biliary and renal colic;
 The redcurrant jelly gives an ache in the belly,
 you know the matter ain't so silly.
 Swiss cheese with a dash of nutmeg, buff coloured buns with fried egg,
 Chicken wire and mutton leg; leave us alone, please, they beg !
 Let's be original, rising above the culinary level,
 Lest we battle indigestion in the bowel,
 making us moan, groan and cry,
 and ending up as a “row of tombstones” against a “starry sky” !