Statistics from Altmetric.com
There once lived a pathologist by name Joe Pearson,
Like the back of his hand, he knew every lesion.
He knew them all; he’d seen them all,
A great teacher, his students he’d enthrall.
“REAL” lymphomas to “pseudo” tumours he was the master,
There was no man who could be faster.
Our good old man had but one vice,
That he’d firmly shut his mind’s eyes.
Never a new thought could he entertain,
The winds of change—he treated with disdain.
Stagnant and resistant, the frog-in-a-well,
Till one day, the curtain of wax fell.
He’d made a mistake, which was certainly fatal—
putting a newborn through the gates of hell;
He was left a loner in his ivory tower,
Deprived of his glory, shorn of his power.
His work of a lifetime stood by him no more,
’cos he’d refused to learn and he’d chosen to ignore.
A heavy price he paid, to fathom the secret of living—
That if you want to go places, you must keep moving!
If you wish to reuse any or all of this article please use the link below which will take you to the Copyright Clearance Center’s RightsLink service. You will be able to get a quick price and instant permission to reuse the content in many different ways.