What’s The Matter With Annabel Sue?

Annabel Sue was a terrible case
The worst Doctor Whom would e’er again face.
See, Annabel suffered from awful complaints
O Annabel’s agonies would sore try the saints!

“I’m sure that my ileum must be quite septic!
Can’t recall when I last felt so vile and dyspeptic,
My hear palpitates, every breath is a mercy
And that pain in my coccyx is getting quite piercy.”

“I’ve always been delicate, wispy and frail,”
Anna said heaving o’er like a great lacy whale.
“Now leave me a while, I must have my nap
Wake me round ten with sweet tea and a bap.*”

And often…

“Oh crivens my bones!  Oh Heav’ns, my gall-stones!
I’m fading away, Look! I’m just mere skin and bones!
Call out for the doctor! This pain, I can’t bear it!
(If you’re going past the kitchen i could stand a welsh rarebit…)”

Ann said to the doc. “I’m not one to complain
But I really do think you should cure my chillblains.
After all, I lie here, a martyr to pain!
A slave to my ailments! You can’t know the strain

Of lying here day after day after days
With nothing but telly and all-day buffets.
How I wish I could rise and labour and toil!
How I wish, but I can’t on account of my boil

It’s in rather a delicate place, as you know
The slightest wrong move and that sucker could blow!
Plus I have this strange, bald patch where hair will not grow
And only this morning I staved my big toe…”


Doctor Whom was just sterling, a real multitasker
But still Annabel suffered, was wretched – just ask her!
Every day brought more ailments, tv ad-break swooning,
(Annabel’s weight was by now fair ballooning)

The good doctor was tested, ne’er rested, befuddled
Sworn to cure…trying to grasp…with reagents she guddled.
She ordered Clear Soups and Tonics and Salves
And ointments to rub on Ann’s shins and her calves.

When that didn’t work she cried “Nil By Mouth!”
But Annabel soon sent that idea South.
On account of her “digestive difficulties”
Anna-belle self-prescribed only cakes, steaks and cheese.


The poor doctor read widely from tomes (e’en in leisure):
Annals on anal discomfort and pressure,
Case studies of bunions gone bad, lab reports
And causes for gastric distress, and strange warts.

She consulted with doctors all over the land
“So what can be done for vague pain in the hand?
While Annabel’s kin sold off lamps, rugs and chairs
To keep her in food and them out of arrears.


Then came one day, (notable for more moaning)
Doctor Whom woke up fresh, her head clear, brain not groaning.
She suddenly saw what she had to achieve!
No stethoscope needed, no blood-pressure sleeve!

She strode past the family and up the back stair
She knocked once, went in, and to Ann did declare,
“Annabel Sue, the cause of your affliction’s
No physical problem, but Sickness Addiction!”

Anna cried “Oooh! I’ll get a pill for that then!
Do fill out the prescription at once, here’s a pen!”
Doctor Whom screamed quite calmly, face not the least red.

Annabel Annabel tried to arise
Shocked Annabel Annabel, stunned and surprised!
Doctor had ne’er before been quite so forceful
Sure sometimes resourceful, and sometimes remorseful

At not having got to the heart of the matter
About Anna’s so oddly becoming much fatter.
“You’ve bankrupt your kin, dashed near ruined their health
In caring for you they’ve lost most of their wealth!

Annabel I will not tell you once more
Get up!  Take a walk, try a stroll to the door!”
“No!” shrieked out Annabel, I WILL NOT DO IT!
You’re fired Dr. Whom! Oh boy, you done blew it!

Dr. Whom smiled and quietly gathered her things,
Downstairs listening, the folks packed their scarce belongings.
They all left together and shut the front door
As upstairs Anna did rage, scream and roar.


Annabel Annabel, ne’er really ill
Annabel howls and is sitting there still.


24 thoughts on “What’s The Matter With Annabel Sue?”

  1. :) Haha, brill! and a little homage for you!
    Every family’s got their own Annabel Sue
    a person with time on their hands, it is true,
    for imagin’ry lesions, torsions and splaints,
    a menu of miserable, mithering complaints,
    and for all the enabling that relatives do
    it’s never enough for the delinquent shrew,
    so enough of the cosseting, at today’s awful prices,
    and leave the auld bag to her own devices.

  2. Honey, cheers to you!

    Rand, And I ditto my cheers to Honey to you, buddy!

    Conan, brilliant! I aime it, I aime it heaps!

    Sniffly, ah Sniffs, ta to you, Toots! have to say I’m getting disturbed by all this M&B talk – Mills & Boon, right?

    Medbh, you’re not wrong. Annabel’s one of those amongst us who chooses to sink into it.

  3. Longfellow – eat your heart out.
    I really feel for Anna; my coccyx has never been the same since an over enthusiastic photographer pushed the chair I was balanced on off the table on which it, in turn, was balanced.
    If she had a boil on her bum as well she really had plenty to moan about.
    Excellent stuff!

  4. Kim, no, but that’s happened too, in the past.

    Sea Dreams, never so happy s when she was ill. Cheers!

    Ah Sniffle, get away wi’you. You say the loveliest things. Thanks, toots.

    Nanas, I love Hillaire Belloc! Have you seen The Tiger Lillies doing some of his poems? Strange, dark, very creepy cabaret act, they are. Lots of falsetto and subtle menace – really talented musicians too. They’re amazing. Here they are singing about Bully Boys.

    Bock, I’ve known a couple myself. This was just meant to be a bit of fun, but physical ailments or not, there has to be some fear or real mental anguish that would make a person take to their beds for years like that. I knew a woman like that in Lewis. She just wasn’t equipped to deal with the world. Very nervous and thin – not like Annabel here. It’s too bad.

    Pat, ouchee! What were you modeling when that happened? (And thanks, sweet lady. x)

    Sneezy, hee! He’s a she though. And after dark, after the cares of the day are tossed by the coatstand at the door, she often likes to settle down with a glass of claret and get all subjunctive.

  5. Would you mind if I shared my favourite Belloc poem with you?

    No? All right, but here it is anyway.

    A Python I should not advise,—

    It needs a doctor for its eyes,

    And has the measles yearly,

    However, if you feel inclined

    To get one (to improve your mind,

    And not from fashion merely),

    Allow no music near its cage;

    And when if flies into a rage

    Chastise it, most severely.

    I had an Aunt in Yucatan

    Who bought a Python from a man

    And kept it for a pet.

    She died, because she never knew

    These simple little rules and few;—

    The Snake is living yet.

  6. The shorts and top were my own so it wasn’t clothes. I think it may have been a drink. Sometimes he would take photos on spec and the sell it to an agency who would then shove a Crawford’s biscuit tin against my face. Or the like.

  7. Hi guys. I have a friend who is very, very near the end of her life so I’m not posting right now. She is a wonderful woman who has been ill for many years and is accepting her last days with such serenity and grace it is truly awesome to see. Anyway, it’s not the time for my idiot stories. I’ll be around to see you all, presently.

  8. I’m sorry about your friend, but I’m glad to see that you and yours are safe. I was a bit worried when I read from the LA papers that there was nasty fires raging to the north of the city. But again, sorry about your friend.

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