He took a seat beside the patient's bed,
Saw tongue—felt pulse—examined the bad cheek,—
Poked, strok'd, pinch'd, kneaded it—hemm'd—shook his head—
Took a long solemn pause the cause to seek,
(Thinking, it seem'd in Greek,)
Then ask'd—'twas Christmas—"Had he eaten grass,
Or greens—and if the cook was so improper
To boil them up with copper,
Or farthings made of brass;
Or if he drank his Hock from dark green glass,