‘ If wishes were horses’ — I've heard when a girl —
‘ If wishes were horses, the beggars would ride’ —
If wishes were pheasants, I'd wish with a skirl
Till cooked ones came flying and sat by my side.
A fig, then, for doctors, their tinctures and drugs;
Good eating would cure me, with plenty of game;
And as for pill boxes, and bottles, and jugs,
I would n't know one, when I saw it, by name.
Oh, dear! such a load now my stomach oppresses,
While eating these trifles, attempting to dine —
I'm sure‘ taint the turkey — it must be my dresses —
And if so‘ t will ease them to sip sherry wine.
‘ Tis sad, though, to be such a sad invalid —
Dear me, Colonel Dinewell, you've done eating meat —
Your doctor, like mine, I hope has n't forbid,
That you should n't have, as I do, so little to eat.
Ah! well then, I see, though I've hardly begun,
The meats and the solids must go right away;
So bring in the pudding, if Susan's got one,
Which will for a while one's appetite stay.