Their ghastly theory of “noxious juice,”
And my parent guessed at no cause for scare
In the poisoned breath of her old arm-chair.
The doctor watched her many a day,
While she took her physic and pined away;
And it failed to strike him that p’raps her cure
Might be found in a smash of furniture.
Time passed on, and I heard with glee
That mater intended to try the sea;
But though she recovered in Brighton air,