They used to have some points,
But now they’re flat; gums are sore—
Very sore-y.
Sometimes they hurt so badly he must cry out loud,
Then he’s groaning.
They’re so sore, the canines. . .
Many candy bars—
Enamel ain’t hard.

The dentin too has fled, undone, not helped
By all that sugar that wastes the pearlies.
Sucrose repasts—such dining will make a man go, “Ow!”
He’ll be screaming.
They’re so sore, that he’ll whine
From those candy bars.
Enamel ain’t hard.

Scarin’ himself each day when he scowls
And he sees decayed and dyin’.
His once white teeth—now just stumps, euw! Can’t chew. . .
Go to dentist and get ’em all fixed!

They are sore and don’t shine. . .
Look like rusted bars
Or caked mudguards.

Gums sting each time this fellow eats
Foods not just with sweetness.
Molars are listing.
Schmear and some lox
Sans bagel—even this will smart—
Can’t e’en gum food.

When he pours some quinine
At his fav’rite bar,
Sipping it is hard,
Swigging it is hard,
Lipping it is hard,
Nipping it is hard.

Each day, grievin’;
Gum day—there’s no gnash doin’.
All of them he might lose.
Tooth-stray mournin’—teeth are gone if he don’t do
Something, else he will lose.

So I tell him like it is:
To allay suffering, vittles needs some changing
To make depart the suffering
(Hell, teeth are dying!);
See a guy in tooth repair, or you’ll lose.

You don’t have cankers—
Go see him right away!
Many from which to choose.

You should go see him—do it now, straightaway;
Stop all this self-abuse
(Meaning that of the tooth).

Chestnut brown, the caries,
Ruby throat from fast flow
Of the sanguine stuff—dang!
Still sugar repast? No!!

Choice you have of changing
For getting each tooth right.
There must be some dentistry,
Or else they will not last, no!

Lazy, listless, lamebrain, losing à la denting.
Change your bite, make it tight. . .
Unrelenting.

[the following alternates with “Loose-loose-loose tooth, lose-lose-lose loose tooth"]

No es lindo, lo que se encuentra
En la boca; hay muchas caries,
El sangre corre como Aries
(O como un toro en Pamplona).
Es triste que jamás el cepilla.*

“Ah! Ah! Ah!!!”


*What’s found in that mouth ain’t pretty—
There are a lot of cavities,
And blood runs as fast as a ram
(Or as a bull in Pamplona).
That he never brushes is sad.