Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OULD DOCTOR MACK, by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

OULD DOCTOR MACK, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ye may tramp the world over from delhi to dover
Last Line: Hip, hip, hooray!
Subject(s): Physicians; Sickness; Doctors; Illness


YE may tramp the world over
From Delhi to Dover,
And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon,
Circumvint back
Through the whole Zodiack,
But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon.
Have ye the dropsy,
The gout, the autopsy?
Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez,
No ways infarior
In skill, but suparior,
And lineal postarior to Ould Aysculapius.

Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,
Aigle eye, and complexion clarety:
Here's to his health,
Honor and wealth,
The king of his kind and the crame of all charity!

How the rich and the poor,
To consult for a cure,
Crowd on to his doore in their carts and their carriages,
Showin' their tongues
Or unlacin' their lungs,
For divle one symptom the docther disparages.
Troth, an' he'll tumble,
For high or for humble,
From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety;
Makin' as light
Of nursin' all night
The beggar in rags as the belle of society.

Chorus -- He and his wig, etc.

And as if by a meracle,
Ailments hysterical,
Dad, wid one dose of bread-pills he can smother,
And quench the love-sickness
Wid wonderful quickness,
By prescribin' the right boys and girls to aich other.
And the sufferin' childer --
Your eyes 'twould bewilder
To see the wee craythurs his coat-tails unravellin',
And aich of them fast
On some treasure at last,
Well knowin' ould Mack's just a toy-shop out travellin'.

Chorus -- He and his wig, etc.

Thin, his doctherin' done,
In a rollickin' run
Wid the rod or the gun, he's the foremost to figure.
By Jupiter Ammon,
What jack-snipe or salmon
E'er rose to backgammon his tail-fly or trigger!
And hark! the view-hollo!
'Tis Mack in full follow
On black "Faugh-a-ballagh" the country-side sailin'.
Och, but you'd think
'Twas old Nimrod in pink,
Wid his spurs cryin' chink over park-wall and palin'.

Chorus
He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,
Aigle eye, and complexion clarety:
Here's to his health,
Honor and wealth!
Hip, hip, hooray! wid all hilarity,
Hip, hip, hooray! That's the way,
All at once, widout disparity!
One more cheer
For our docther dear,
The king of his kind and the crame of all charity.
Hip, hip, hooray!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net