Monthly Archives: June 2013

WHERE’S the good old family doctor, with

his microscopic bills,

With his bag of plasters, powders, and those

evil-tasting pills?

How our troubles used to lighten and our

aches and pains abate,

When his shabby horse and buggy tied up

at the old front gate!

          ________

Now it’s Doctor This for measles and it’s

Doctor That for mumps,

And it’s Doctor What-You-Call-Him when

it’s just a case of dumps;

If it’s only common colic, just as plain as

plain can be,

To a hospital you’re hustled for some

surgicality.

          ________

Comes the twentieth century doctor in a

spotless limousine,

Sealed hermetically in it — clothed “germproof”

to microbes keen.

Or, more truly, this great doctor will not

come at all to you —

In an office he’s receiving—”Office hours

from one to two.”

          ________

And it’s Doctor This for left eye and it’s

Doctor That for right,

And it’s Doctor What-You-Call-Him if

you’re crosswise in your sight;

When you need some fancy glasses just

to see more than you ought,

To Berlin you’re shipped instanter to that

famous Doctor Whaught.

          ________

He can amputate bad tempers, he can

make  good folks of bad,

He’ll immune you from diseases that you

never could have had.

Yes, time’s come when it’s expected, just

to keep you ” middling fair,”

You must know the specialistic docs of

all the kinds there are.

          ________

Oh, it’s Doctor This for ” eetises” and

Doctor That for ” ites,”

And it’s Doctor What-You-Call-Him when

you’re seeing things o’nights.

Each will treat one ” error ” only,

will these modern unionists,

Then divide your woes with twenty other

waiting specialists.

— The Washington Post, February 17, 1910, p. 6.