The Ballad of the Superstar Surgeon Paolo Macchiarini - Henrik Widegren

Ladies and gentlemen

Please, let me sing

Let me tell a story

So hideous and grim

It is just as crooked

As a tortellini

It is about the surgeon

Paolo Macchiarini

T’was in Stockholm, Sweden

Two thousand ten

A surgeon was recruited

By enterprising men

They celebrated with

Champagne and Martini:

«Hooray we got the superstar

Paolo Macchiarini!»

He wanted to facilitate

The patients' respiration

With advanced medical

Regeneration

He thought outside the box

And anything goes

So he planted stem cells

On a garden hose

But some people were

Somewhat sceptical

What if the new trachea

Did not stick at all?

But no one likes

A naysaying genie

So they cheered and bowed

To Paolo Macchiarini

The next year in Stockholm

Opening night

The OR was packed

Everybody wanted a bite

But Paolo loved animals

Protocol, be cursed!

So he tried the operation

On humans first

In fancy papers he

Described his victory

And soon he operated

Patient two and three

But he forgot to mention

Something very odd

How the first patient was

Coughing up blood

Next in line was Julia

Not sickly at all

He told her that the risk

Was very, very small

She had a family and her hair

Was blond like linguine

She trusted the surgeon

Paolo Macchiarini

So Paolo kept busy

And patients in line

But the plastic airways

Weren’t doing fine

The tracheas are perfect

Reported Macchiarini

But the tracheas looked like

Rotting zucchini

One day four doctors

Finally awakened

And shouted out:

«The emperor is naked»

But the board said:

«How have you acquired

These medical records

We could have you fired»

But soon everybody

In this world could see

Plastic doesn’t work

But there was no plan B

Slowly the patients

Lost their breath

Their new, fantastic airways

Caused a slow death

At last Macchiarini

Together with the board

And the president

Were fired.

Thank the Lord

But they’ve got new jobs

Are safe and sound

While half a dozen patients

Lay in the ground

So why do I sing this?

Why do I bore ye?

Because we must never

Forget this story

A mixture of Bergman and Fellini

The ballad of the surgeon

Paolo Macchiarini

The superstar surgeon

Paolo Macchiarini