Once upon a time,
My sister said to me,
Brittany I have a question.
Who will the next Doctor be?
Will he be tall and lanky,
Or short and stout.
Of course he'll be dreamy,
She said without doubt.
I smiled at her,
As she told me her thoughts.
But it got wiped off in a second,
When she said what she should not.
I hope he's American,
Or a famous actor.
If he was Johnny Depp,
I'd scream till my throat is sore.
No I protested,
I practically screamed.
He can't be American.
Get rid of that dream.
If he was from here,
Could you imagine the rants!
It will be worse than Hitler,
When he found out about Tennant. (There is this funny rant on youtube from Hitler when David left)
He can't be famous,
Or widely well known.
He needs to be a new face,
We've never seen from home.
What about a ginger she asked,
I love them ever so much!
Could he have curly orange hair,
Soft to the touch?
Dear sister I said,
No matter how hard he waits,
The doctor can't be a ginger.
That is not his fate.
So to cover my bases,
Tell me if I miss out.
The Doctor can be many things,
That I will now count.
The doctor can be,
short,
tall,
Fat,
Small,
Bald.
Full of hair that can be,
Brown,
Black,
White,
But never orange,
Never for him.
He can't be American,
But British is good!
He can't be famous or familiar.
No that won't do!
The Doctor can be one hundred and one,
As long as he's still fun,
Charming,
Kind,
Helpful,
Sweet,
Smart,
Compassionate,
And forever quirky!
I looked at my sister.
Are we set straight?
She nodded and left,
Off ran my mate.
Asleep at her desk,
I found her later,
Over a drawing,
Of me as the Doctor.
Female said I,
Happy with glee.
The Doctor could be both genders.
The Doctor could be me!