Tilley’s New Teeth

A naughty gap, not very wide, hid behind her lip
A useless and unnecessary space.
An oral imperfection. A minor dental blip
On an otherwise pretty little face.

And then appeared a buckle. And then another one
Her gnashers were losing all control
If something didn’t happen. If something wasn’t done
Her lovely looks could pay a heavy toll

Then Paul, the dapper dentist said, ‘I’ll take on the job
With drill and skill I’ll scrape and shape and file.
I’ll build you brand new hampsteads and stick ‘em in your gob.
For a bag of cash, I’ll make a dashing smile.

So now there’s nothing left of that interfering cleft
Those pampered pearlies sit on perfect track
Her brand new smile wins by a mile. And I must confess
The wind no longer whistles through the crack.