Doctor Chopper was a surgeon, a cut above the rest, who, with his scalpel, checked up, keeping medically abreast of all the latest trends and fads, and, as you may have guessed, is just a fiction of this rhyme, which darkly jokes Dick's jest.
Dick Chopper, for great profits' quest, in scrubs would get srcubbed, dressed to do excisions blithely after each appropriate test. The latest of trend and fad diagnosed in the quest which end would be the political one to be seen as best.
Dr. Chopper, knick-named Dick, with both aplomb and zest would remove as was required what once had so transgressed. Gone are the days of patients whose patience did contest with ancient, crippling social norms which now modernity's redressed. Come along with passing time and spirits so possessed of needs met by a slice of life which now has convalesced. Bandage, salve and drugs suggest that healing might likely heal the deep depressed. How ends the tale? What great bequest serves endings which have been confessed to answers which need not be further finessed? Nuanced in what direction? In some way transgressed? Ah, how easily one might protest, when another view turns into a pest.