They Care About The NHS or A Load Of Bellocs

Old Alice Ann a caring mother,
Left a widow wed another.
Sadly things were not so good
And Alice upped and left the ‘hood.
The time of which I write of course
Was when a cart was pulled by horse
And sad to say, if ill you got,
It cost you dear – I mean a lot.
This is before the NHS
And many then were in a mess:
Short-sighted lame or just the ‘flu,
The Doctor would not come to you
This was because you had to pay
Some ready money on the day
And if you could not, here’s the rub,
You had to join the weekly club.
Even then things were not easy,
Colds remained and coughs got wheezy
There were no real effective drugs
And nothing really killed the bugs
And after time up got Nye Bevan
“Tredegar Model” made in heaven
He wore himself to shreds with this
But gave us all our health back. Bliss!
But what of Alice, and her daughter?
Cures could not be made of water.
Surgery was necessary,
So was money – really; very.
But 1938 was grim:
No operations on a whim
And pain was real and death was slow
The daughter watched her Mother go.
My poor old Gran looked after Alice
Doling comfort, calm and solace
And though the cancer killed her Mater
She still was paying ten years later.
So do not knock the NHS
We cannot do with any less.
Of course it costs in extra taxes
But we’ve done well from Bevan’s praxis
And there are some, now heed my warning
Who would begrudge us next day’s dawning.
So be aware that we can lose
Our right to healthcare which we use.
And when it’s gone, it’s gone forever
Back to the days of “never never”
And we’ll be told by our great Cap’n
“It’s all your fault; you let it happen”.
But global warming floods and famine
National debt and other scamming
Will make the worst of this to fall
By keeping our eyes off the ball.
What masquerades as news is not
Informative, just Tommy Rot
So please dear friend, please be a cynic
And watch out: or you’ll lose your clinic


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