THE MIXTURE AS BEFORE.

I bust suppose the Doctor dose,

(I do not bead a pud!)

What ails be; but that aidlbelt grows!

This Subber brigs do sud.

Subtibes the east wids blow like bad,

Subtibes code showers pour,

But daily cubs that doctor's lad,—

"The Bixture as Before!"

The Idfluedza I have got,

Or I ibadgid so;

Subtibes I'b cold, subtibes I'b hot,

I cough, I sdeeze, I blow,

But GLADSTUD's better, SBITH is well,

I do dot bend. O lor!—

There's that codfonded kitchid bell;

"The Bixture as Before!"

I've had at least a budth of it,

Sidtz I was first struck dowd,

Yet here id slippered feet I sit!

By daily half-a-crowd—

For bedsud taxes by poor purse.

It is ad awfud bore.

This bedsud bakid be feel worse—

"The Bixture as Before!"

I'b odly a poor City clerk.

Quidide is bodstrous dear;

By doctor treats it as a lark,

Ad tries by bide to cheer.

But if by situashud goes,

I'b ruid—ad two score!

What cad avail the Doctor's dose—

"The Bixture as Before"?

It bay be Bicrobes, as they say,

This Idfluedza pest;

What batters? I bust cough—ad pay!

The Doctor orders "Rest"!

Bicrobes be blowed, ad Rest go hag!

I'll stad this thig do bore!

BARY! was that the door-bell rag?

—"The Bixture as Before"!