Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DOC SIFERS, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Of all the doctors I could cite you to in this-'ere town Last Line: He's jes' a great, big, brainy man -- that's where the trouble lays! Alternate Author Name(s): Johnson Of Boone, Benj. F. Subject(s): Amputees; Death; Physicians; Dead, The; Doctors | ||||||||
OF all the doctors I could cite you to in this-'ere town Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes' take him up and down! Count in the Bethel Neighberhood, and Rollins, and Big Bear, And Sifers' standin' jes' as good as ary doctor's there! There's old Doc Wick, and Glenn, and Hall, and Wurgler, and McVeigh, But I'll buck Sifers 'g'inst 'em all and down 'em any day! Most old Wick ever knowed, I s'pose, was whisky! Wurgler -- well, He et morphine -- ef actions shows, and facts' reliable! But Sifers -- though he ain't no sot, he's got his faults; and yit When you git Sifers onc't, you've got a doctor, don't fergit! He ain't much at his office, er his house, er anywhere You'd natchurly think certain fer to ketch the feller there. -- But don't blame Doc: he's got all sorts o' cur'ous notions -- as The feller says, his odd-come-shorts, like smart men mostly has. He'll more'n like be potter'n' 'round the Blacksmith Shop; er in Some back lot, spadin' up the ground, er gradin' it ag'in. Er at the work bench, planin' things; er buildin' little traps To ketch birds; galvenizin' rings; er graftin' plums, perhaps. Make anything! good as the best! -- a gun-stock -- er a flute; He whittled out a set o' chesstmen onc't o' laurel root. Durin' the Army -- got his trade o' surgeon there -- I own To-day a finger-ring Doc made out of a Sesesh bone! An' glued a fiddle onc't fer me -- jes' all so busted you 'D 'a' throwed the thing away, but he fixed her as good as new! And take Doc, now, in ager, say, er biles, er rheumatiz, And all afflictions thataway, and he's the best they is! Er janders -- milksick -- I don't keer -- k-yore anything he tries -- A abscess; getherin' in yer yeer; er granilated eyes! There was the Widder Daubenspeck they all give up fer dead; A blame cowbuncle on her neck, and clean out of her head! First had this doctor, what's-his-name, from "Pudblesburg," and then This little red-head, "Burnin' Shame" they call him -- Dr. Glenn. And they "consulted" on the case, and claimed she'd haf to die, -- I jes' was joggin' by the place, and heerd her dorter cry, And stops and calls her to the fence; and I-says-I, "Let me Send Sifers -- bet you fifteen cents he'll k-yore her!" "Well," says she, "Light out!" she says: And, lipp-tee-cut, I loped in town, and rid 'Bout two hours more to find him, but I kussed him when I did! He was down at the Gunsmith Shop a-stuffin' birds! Says he, "My sulky's broke." Says I, "You hop right on and ride with me!" I got him there. -- "Well, Aunty, ten days k'yores you," Sifers said, "But what's yer idy livin' when yer jes' as good as dead?" And there's Dave Banks -- jes' back from war without a scratch -- one day Got ketched up in a sickle-bar, a reaper runaway. -- His shoulders, arms, and hands and legs jes' sawed in strips! And Jake Dunn starts fer Sifers -- feller begs to shoot him fer God-sake. Doc, 'course, was gone, but he had penned the notice, "At Big Bear -- Be back to-morry; Gone to 'tend the Bee Convention there." But Jake, he tracked him -- rid and rode the whole endurin' night! And 'bout the time the roosters crowed they both hove into sight. Doc had to ampitate, but 'greed to save Dave's arms, and swore He could 'a' saved his legs ef he'd be'n there the day before. Like when his wife's own mother died 'fore Sifers could be found, And all the neighbers fer and wide a' all jes' chasin' round; Tel finally -- I had to laugh -- it's jes' like Doc, you know, -- Was learnin' fer to telegraph, down at the old deepo. But all they're faultin' Sifers fer, there's none of 'em kin say He's biggoty, er keerless, er not posted any way; He ain't built on the common plan of doctors nowadays, He's jes' a great, big, brainy man -- that's where the trouble lays! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DOCTOR WHO SITS AT THE BEDSIDE OF A RAT by JOSEPHINE MILES EL CURANDERO (THE HEALER) by RAFAEL CAMPO HER FINAL SHOW by RAFAEL CAMPO SONG FOR MY LOVER: 13. TOWARDS CURING AIDS by RAFAEL CAMPO WHAT THE BODY TOLD by RAFAEL CAMPO MEDICINE 2; FOR JOHN MURRAY by CAROLYN KIZER THE NERVE DOCTORS by THOMAS LUX DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. BURKE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY |
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