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A VICTIM TO SCIENCE.
Thre were two wise physicians once, of glory and renown,Who went to take a little walk nigh famous Concord town.
Oh! very, very great and wise and learned men were they,
And wise and learned was thr talk, as they walked on thr way.
And as they walked, and talked and talked, they came to whre they found
A Crow as black as any hat, a-sitting on ye ground.
Ye Crow was very, very sick, as you may quickly see
By just looking at ye picture tht is drawn hre by me.
Now whn ye doctors came to him they mended of thr pace,
And said one unto ye other, “Hre's an interesting case;
A case tht shld be treated, and be treated speedily.
I have—yes, here it is—a pill tht has been made by me.
Now, I have had occasion—” Said ye other, “In most cases
Your pills are excellently good, but hre, my friend, are traces
Of a lassitude, a languor, tht your pills cld hardly aid;
In short, they're rather violent for ths, I am afraid.
I have a tincture—” Said ye first, “Your tincture cannot touch
A case as difficult as ths; my pills are better, much.”
“Your pills, sir, are too violent.” “Your tonic is too weak.”
“As I have said, sir, in ths case—” “Permit me, sir, to speak.”
And so they argued long and high, and on, and on, and on,
Until they lost their tempers, and an hour or more had gone.
But long before their arguments ye question did decide,
Ye Crow, not waiting for ye end, incontinently died.
Ye Moral (is apparent.)
H. Pyle.
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