The New Cure.
[TO MR. SMITH.]
R. Smith, you’re very worried,
And your face looks very sad,
By the Gladstonites you’re flurried,
Their behaviour is so bad;
And your liver is affected,
And you’re bilious as well,
But you need not be dejected,
You’ll be sound, sir, as a bell
If you switchback,
If you switchback—
If you switchback, sir, forthwith.
It’s a patented health-giver,
It will act upon your liver,
If you switchback, Mr. Smith.
[MR. SMITH REPLIES.]
R. D., I’m gay and jolly,
And my fingers I can snap
At the Opposition folly,
And the Parnellites who yap.
I can view the situation
With a calm, contented smile,
And, whate’er the aggravation,
Keep my temper all the while;
For I’ve switchbacked,
For I’ve switchbacked—
For I’ve switchbacked, Mr. D.;
And that patented health-giver
Has, in acting on my liver,
Made another man of me.
[TO A JUDGE.]
ENRY Hawkins, people mutter,
That dyspeptic pain at times
Is the cause of words you utter
When a-sitting upon crimes;
When your liver’s wrong, your fury
Can no murderer withstand,
And you sum up to the jury
With the black cap in your hand.
You should switchback,
You should switchback;
Please, Sir Henry, don’t say “Fudge!”
For the switchback it will shake you,
Stir your liver up, and make you
Quite a nice agreeable judge.