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A poem by James Parkerson

Political Surgeon

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Title:     Political Surgeon
Author: James Parkerson [More Titles by Parkerson]

Tune—“The Exciseman.”

In a country village that’s near,
A very good market for beef;
Thro’ a lane a neat mansion appear,
Whose owner can give you relief.

No one in the place doubts his skill,
Due attention he pays to the poor,
To them he’ll diminish his bill;
If adversity stands at the door.

I fear he brain fevers increase,
To those that are fond of the state,
To upbraid it he seldom will cease,
And will its mishaps glad relate.

To men that are loyal and brave;
Such stuff will but faintly go down,
All judge it the trick of a knave,
That endeavour to harass the crown.

When first to the village he went;
All pensions and placemen were bad,
Of doctrine so foul he’s relent,
By vanity’s rays he’s misled.

When a man is well known to be poor,
Such gammon he’ll cram in your ear,
Yet when the wolf’s fled from his door,
He a different thing will appear.

The time that I stated ’twas thought,
He scarcely could raise half a crown,
And some people say not a groat,
Till a lady arrived in the town.

But soon he found money in hand,
Enough for to purchase a farm,
Of two hundred acres of land,
Which did all his cravings disarm.

He attended me once to ease pain;
I found him a man very wise;
Awhile would my patience detain;
To tell me the stocks could not rise.

He said that the state was so poor,
A bankrupt it soon would be found,
I told him to state it no more
His noddle I feared was unsound.

The camelion its colours oft change,
And so can the doctor his plan,
To loyalty’s converse can range,
To suit any very rich man.

With the ladies he neatly can toy,
I mean quite by decency’s rule;
Yet his nonsense the wiser annoy,
Of sagacity’s plan but a tool.

A more sober man cannot be,
For water is chief of his drink;
He is very well liked on by me,
I’m always for purple and pink.


[The end]
James Parkerson's poem: Political Surgeon

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