A DOCTOR, who, for want of skill.
Did sometimes cure — and sometimes kill;
Contrived at length, by many a puff,
And many a bottle filled with stuff,
To raise his fortune, and his pride;
And in a coach, forsooth! must ride.
His family coat long since worn out.
What arms to take, was all the doubt.
A friend, consulted on the case,
Thus answered with a sly grimace :
“Take some device in your own way,
Neither too solemn nor too gay;
Three Ducks, suppose; white, gray, or black; And let your motto be, Quack! quack!
By: Richard Graves
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