Dr. Holt's House of Hormones

On a tumbledown tract
in a lampless lane
at the end of the end of the end
stands old Doc's house,
porch boards popping
and rank rooms peeling

The testosterone's on tap
and roids repose in red bowls
like so many Reese's pieces
Doc's holding court up front
wearing a whiskey-white coat
and dispensing drolleries

While out back of the back
perennial patient and batsman
Frank N. Fielder,
thrombosis thumping,
shows off his monster swing
to the little girl with lilacs...

The villagers will come,
carrying torches