There was a young man of Back Bay
Who thought disease just went away.
And thought that a chancre
Was merely a canker
Acquired in lascivious play.
Now first he got acne vulgaris,
The kind that is rampant in Paris
It covered his skin
From forehead to shin
And now people ask where his hair is.
With symptoms increasing in number,
His aorta's in need of a plumber
His hear is cavorting
His wife is aborting
And now he's acquired a gumma.
Consider his terrible plight -
His eyes won't react to the light
His hands are apraxic. His gait is ataxic.
He's developing gun-barrel sight.
His passions are strong as before
But his penis is flaccid, and sore.
His wife now has tabes
And sabre-shinned babies
There are pains in his belly and knees.
His sphincters have gone by degrees.
Paroxysmal incontinence,
With all its concomitants,
Brings on quite unpredictable pees.
Though treated in every known way,
His spirochetes grow day by day.
He's developed paresis
And thinks he's the Queen of the May."
(Theodor Rosebury, 1971)