Head, neck, shoulder or wrist, mend it Physiotherapist.
They work so hard not sympathetic, their hearts dedicated to care,
Feelings they really have, to show them would not be fair.
Determined they try to make limbs work, their aim to make one well,
Deep inside they feel your pain, unprofessional to tell.
With a smile and encouraging word they will do their best,
Saying lift your weights two hundred times then you take a rest.
Post op treatment, handicapped, maybe a crippling stroke,
Wonderful Physiotherapists, masters of muscles in folk.
A nurse treats you to healing, a Physio treats you to hell,
Between them an understanding, a patients health to be well.
I've heard of the "Angels", they deserve their limelight,
But Physios stand in the shade,
Part of their job to put you in pain. Where is their accolade?
They seem to lose for their patients to win,
Bringing them back to health,
They don't take their bows for they get no encores,
In vain they try for wealth.
Taken for granted, not by me or anyone with sense,
Taken for granted they may be but their effort is immense.
I'm thankful they were there to help, grateful for all they've done,
I no longer limp, I walk straight, soon to try and run.
So I applaud them, with no encore, leaving them in the shade,
For human they are, feelings they have and surely they're specially made.
Angels with wings that have been clipped. No halo above their heads,
Bottled tears, nerves of steel as they tour their patients beds.
To all of them good luck, good health and I hope everyone will see,
There's a lot to be said, accolades to be made,
"My thanks Physiotherapy."
