I saw a lady yesterday,
A regular M. D.,
Who ‘d taken from the Faculty
Her medical degree;
And I thought, if ever I was sick.
My doctor she should be!
I pity the deluded man
Who foolishly consults
Another man, in hopes to find
Such magical results
As when a pretty woman lays
Her hand upon his pulse!
I had a strange disorder once,
A kind of chronic chill.
That all the doctors in the town,
With all their vaunted skill.
Could never cure, I ‘m very sure,
With powder nor with pill.
I don’t know what they called it
in their pompous terms of Art,
Nor if they thought it mortal
In such a vital part, —
I only know ‘t was reckoned
“Something icy round the heart!”
A lady came, — her presence brought
The blood into my ears!
She took my hand — and something like
A fever now appears!
Great Galen!— I was all aglow,
Though I ‘d been cold for years I
Perhaps It isn’t every case
That ‘s fairly In her reach,
But should I e’er be ill again,
I fervently beseech
That I may have, for life or death,
A lady for my “ leech “!
By: John Godfrey Saxe
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