Said an old Injun' Chief quite discretely,
“I need a good doctor, to treat me.
I'm crazed and confused,
My tribe is bemused
‘Cause I think I’m a wigwam or teepee.”
When the shrink had completed rendering relief
He billed for professional fees to the Chief.
The Chief went berserk,
"Why so much for no work!
When my time on your couch was so brief?"
The dignified Doc simply winked when he said,
“Tis not for the time, but for talent instead.
Your problem, you see,
Came quickly to me,
Whether wigwam or teepee, it's all in your head.
“Thus in my defense,
My prognosis makes sense!
Since I fixed all your switchin,’
You can quit with the bitchin,’
Cuz you’re a pot-puffin' skinflint who’s simply ‘too tense!’
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