American Ballads and Songs

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Ye doctors all of every rank With their long bills that break a bank, Of wisdom's learning, art, and skill Seems all composed of calomel.
Since calomel has been their toast, How many patients have they lost, How many hundreds have they killed, Or poisoned with their calomel.
If any fatal wretch be sick Go call the doctor, haste, be quick, The doctor comes with drop and pill, But don't forget his calomel.
He enters, by the bed he stands, He takes the patient by the hand, Looks wise, sits down his pulse to feel, And then takes out his calomel.
Next, turning to the patient's wife, He calls for paper and a knife. "I think your husband would do well To take a dose of calomel."
The man grows worse, grows bad indeed "Go call the doctor, ride with speed."