One skip and hop and he was clear,
And running like a hunted deer,
As fleet as people run by fear
Well spurr’d and whipp’d,
Death, ghosts, and all in that career
Were quite outstripp’d.
But those who live by death must die;
Jack’s soul at last prepared to fly;
And when his latter end drew nigh,
Oh! what a swarm
Of doctors came,—but not to try
To keep him warm.
No ravens ever scented prey
So early where a dead horse lay,
Nor vulture sniff’d so far away
A last convulse:
A dozen “guests” day after day
Were “at his pulse.”
’Twas strange, altho’ they got no fees,
How still they watch’d by twos and threes,
But Jack a very little ease
Obtain’d from them;
In fact he did not find M. D.’s
Worth one D——M.
The passing bell with hollow toll
Was in his thought—the dreary hole!
Jack gave his eyes a horrid roll,
And then a cough:—
“There’s something weighing on my soul
I wish was off;
“All night it roves about my brains,
All day it adds to all my pains,
It is concerning my remains
When I am dead:”
Twelve wigs and twelve gold-headed canes
Drew near his bed.
“Alas!” he sigh’d, “I’m sore afraid
A dozen pangs my heart invade;
But when I drove a certain trade
In flesh and bone,
There was a little bargain made
About my own.”
Twelve suits of black began to close,
Twelve pair of sleek and sable hose,
Twelve flowing cambric frills in rows,
At once drew round;
Twelve noses turn’d against his nose,
Twelve snubs profound.
“Ten guineas did not quite suffice,
And so I sold my body twice;
Twice did not do—I sold it thrice,
Forgive my crimes!
In short I have received its price
A dozen times!”
Twelve brows got very grim and black,
Twelve wishes stretched him on the rack,
Twelve pair of hands for fierce attack
Took up position,
Ready to share the dying Jack
By long division.