With coal like tresses and eyes so bright,
She flits from cot to cot.
In her hands the ice cold jell that no patient ever forgot.
In unsuspecting warmth they lay,
The patients await her call.
Oblivious of what shocking fate is about to fall.
Please roll over she requests,
Your comfort her main concern.
But then with twinkling eyes that smile with mischief,
The dreaded jell she takes and with the art of a painter
With brush in hand a landscape she dose paint.
Not on canvas with oils of varied hue,
But on the patients nice warm backs with her ice cold jell.
Thus strikes the physio from hell.
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