I gazed on each chubby plump sick little elf,
And groaned when he said so—in spite of myself,
But a wink of his eye when he physicked our Fred,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He didn’t prescribe, but went straightway to work,
He dosed all the rest; gave his trousers a jerk,
And adding directions while blowing his nose,
He buttoned his coat; from his chair he arose,
Then jumped in his gig, gave old Jalop a whistle,
And Jalop dashed off as if pricked by a thistle;