They'd follow her where'er she'd go--
A course of action most improper;
She neither knew by sight, and so
For neither of them cared a copper.
BROWN did not know that Turkish male,
He might have been his sainted mother:
The people in this simple tale
Are total strangers to each other.
One day that Turk he sickened sore,
And suffered agonies oppressive;
He threw himself upon the floor
And rolled about in pain excessive.
It made him moan, it made him groan,
And almost wore him to a mummy.
Why should I hesitate to own
That pain was in his little tummy?
At length a doctor came, and rung
(As ALLAH ACHMET had desired),
Who felt his pulse, looked up his tongue,
And hemmed and hawed, and then inquired:
"Where is the pain that long has preyed
Upon you in so sad a way, sir?"
The Turk he giggled, blushed, and said:
I don't exactly like to say, sir."
"Come, nonsense!" said good DOCTOR BROWN.
"So this is Turkish coyness, is it?
You must contrive to fight it down--
Come, come, sir, please to be explicit."
The Turk he shyly bit his thumb,
And coyly blushed like one half-witted,
"The pain is in my little tum,"
He, whispering, at length admitted.
"Then take you this, and take you that--
Your blood flows sluggish in its channel--
You must get rid of all this fat,
And wear my medicated flannel.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87