SONATA
Mad
Maud! But no, There was a worse than her,
The
dreaded and the dreadful Bernadette
That
burned her body with a cigarette
And
attacked her doctor with a needle spur.
At
night all lay awake and all would stir
When
Bernadette came singing with no regret,
Taking
all liberties the doctors let
Her
take and some they didn't. An awful slur
Attached
to those who've been inside,
Mostly
old ladies and unmarried men,
Who,
like a list of sheep in a small pen,
Are
made to do whatever doctors decide.
Your
pills you can't refuse; neither the dinners
Which
makes you sicker than the other sinners.
