Oh, Dr. A. -


    Oh, Dr. A. -


    There is something (don''t go ''way)


    That I''d like to hear you say.


    Though I''d rather die


    Than try


    To pry,


    The fact, you''ll find,


    Is that my mind


    Has evolved the jackpot question for today.


    I intend no cheap derision,


    So please answer with decision,


    And, discarding all your petty cautious fears,


    Tell the secret of your vision!


    How on earth


    Do you give birth


    To those crazy and impossible ideas?


    Is it indigestion


    And a question


    Of the nightmare that results?


    Of your eyeballs whirling,


    Twirling,


    Fingers curling


    And unfurling,


    While your blood beats maddened chimes


    As it keeps impassioned times


    With your thick, uneven pulse?


    Is it that, you think, or liquor


    That brings on the wildness quicker?


    For a teeny


    Weeny


    Dry martini


    May be just your private genie;


    Or perhaps those Tom and ferries


    You will find the very


    Berries


    For inducing


    And unloosing


    That weird gimmick or that kicker;


    Or an awful


    Combination


    Of unlawful


    Stimulation,


    Marijuana plus tequila,


    That will give you just that feel o''


    Things a-clicking


    And unsticking


    As you start your cerebration


    To the crazy syncopation


    Of a brain a-tocking-ticking.


    Surely something, Dr. A., Makes you fey And quite outrt. Since I read you with devotion, Won''t you give me just a notion Of that shrewdly pepped-up potion Out of which emerge your plots? That wild secret bubbly mixture That has made you such a fixture In most favored s.f. spots-


    Now, Dr. A., Don''t go away-


    Oh, Dr. A. - Oh, Dr. A. -