Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ward
Not a sick child was stirring, not a single cry heard
The children were sleeping in hard, lumpy beds
Fighting waves of nausea and thumping heads
Parents like me, just plain mums and dads
Were trying to rest in pull out sofa beds
When out in the corridor there arose such a clatter
I jumped to my feet to see what was the matter
I pulled back the curtain, dashed across vinyl floor
Dodging the obstacles between me and the door
The corridor lighting stayed on through the night
Keeping the ward areas bathed in dim light
When what to my bloodshot eyes did appear
But the doctor himself – dressed in theatre gear
He looked quite a sight in his theatre blues
With a silly paper hat and overshoes
A white theatre gown he had tied with one tape
And it sailed out behind him like superman’s cape
His eyes too were bloodshot, but he managed a smile
Clearly, he’d not slept in quite a while
His expression was gentle, not a single frown line
Despite working more unpaid overtime
He spoke not a word but went straight to his task
Prescribing medications and IV flasks
Then he spotted the nurses and he called them by name
And they laughed as they worked as if playing a game
He left clear instructions for the care of each child
Ensured tests were ordered and appropriately filed
“These kids have been dealt a cruel hand by fate
Their parents can do little but sit with them and wait
So fill Children’s Ward with your kindness and cheer
Merry Christmas everyone and a Healthy New Year!”
