The Ballad Of Dr. B., The Anesthesiologist

I don't really have an explanation for this one.

I wanted to write in iambic tetrameter, and I wanted to write as many polysyllabic words as possible. This is what came out of it. It's not even a real ballad. There is no trimeter. Hannah Bauman made me use the word 'alabaster'.

The Ballad Of Dr. B., The Anesthesiologist

​an anesthesiologist
for now we’ll call him, Dr. B.
would give his service free of charge
and quite enthusiastically
 
yet Dr. B. was not a quack
he had a real PhD
he said “to help the poorer folk is
my responsibility”
 
for years and years he did his job
and very well the folks would say
but triskaidekaphobia
would ruin him one fateful day
 
a patient showed up in his room
the thirteenth patient of that day
the number made him so so scared
his alabaster skin turned grey
 
he screamed  “you get this patient out!’
“But sir, the surgery must start.”
“You cannot make me help this child,
you washed-up foolish sloven tart!”
 
“But sir, his kidneys soon shall fail
and after that, so will his heart
if you don’t put him under now
this kid will surely fall apart.”
 
“I don’t care if he lives or dies
please get him out of my work station
if the papers call to ask,
I’m stopping overpopulation.”
 
The Dr. left his work room then
and took a weeks unpaid vacation
the child’s fate would go unknown
to him, an endless pained vexation