Cutting Edge
I am a plastic surgeon
I’ve spent ten years and more
Researching what is urgent
In the endless gender war –
As money’s money, eggs is eggs,
I’ve hit upon it: perfect legs
We looked at Leonardo
The winners of the Derby
The paintings in the Prado
And, more important, Barbie –
Upon this basis, so we think
All legs should be both long and pink
We’ve also information
On what makes surgeons graft
The result is a sensation
(It’s in its final draft) –
What makes cosmetic surgeons sunny
Is pocketing excessive money
Of course this is surprising
But in the nip-and-tuck biz
We’re always analysing
Some caviar and Buck’s Fizz –
Come in and have a test for free
And leave your legs and breasts to me
A late flash from our boffins
To make you feel fantastic –
While you are bound for coffins
Our brains are so damn plastic
That we will, scientific giants
Outlive our reconstructed clients
You too could act as Cupid
In the Western Hemisphere
If you were quite so stupid
As we are, as is clear:
Life is long, erotic, painless
For scalpel-wielders who are brainless
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