And Mr. F. C.
Skey says, says he,
An empiric’s a quack though you write him M.D.
Let the Saturday shriek about drawing-room topers,
And tell us our wives ne’er go sober to bed;
I’ll laugh at such medical fumblers and gropers,
And list to what skill and experience have said.
And Mr. F. C.
Skey says, says he,
With that manifesto he cannot agree.