Deacon Rogers, he came to me;
"Wife is agoin' to die," said he.
"Doctors great, an' doctors small,
Haven't improved her any at all.
"Physic and blister, powders and pills,
And nothing sure but the doctors' bills!
"Twenty women, with remedies new,
Bother my wife the whole day through.
"Sweet as honey, or bitter as gall--
Poor old woman, she takes 'em all.
"Sour or sweet, whatever they choose;
Poor old woman, she daren't refuse.
"So she pleases whoe'er may call,
An' Death is suited the best of all.
"Physic and blister, powder an' pill--
Bound to conquer, and sure to kill!"