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Category: Funny Tribute Poems
       Classic humorous and funny poems using tribute, poetry intended to show respect, gratitude or admiration, but in a whimsical way.


                    Ye may tramp the world over
                    From Delhi to Dover,
And sail the salt say from Archangel to Arragon,
                    Circumvint back
                    Through the whole Zodiack,
But to ould Docther Mack ye can't furnish a paragon.
                    Have ye the dropsy,
                    The gout, the autopsy?
Fresh livers and limbs instantaneous he'll shape yez,
                    No ways infarior
                    In skill, but suparior,
And lineal postarior to Ould Aysculapius.


        He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,
        Aigle eye, and complexion clarety:
                    Here's to his health,
                    Honor and wealth,
        The king of his kind and the crame of all charity!

                    How the rich and the poor,
                    To consult for a cure,
Crowd on to his doore in their carts and their carriages,
                    Showin' their tongues
                    Or unlacin' their lungs,
For divle one symptom the docther disparages.
                    Troth, an' he'll tumble,
                    For high or for humble,
From his warm feather-bed wid no cross contrariety;
                    Makin' as light
                    Of nursin' all night
The beggar in rags as the belle of society.

                     Chorus--He and his wig, etc.

                    And as if by a meracle,
                    Ailments hysterical,
Dad, wid one dose of bread-pills he can smother,
                    And quench the love-sickness
                    Wid wonderful quickness,
By prescribin' the right boys and girls to aich other.
                    And the sufferin' childer--
                    Your eyes 'twould bewilder
To see the wee craythurs his coat-tails unravellin',
                    And aich of them fast
                    On some treasure at last,
Well knowin' ould Mack's just a toy-shop out travellin'.

                    Chorus--He and his wig, etc.

                    Thin, his doctherin' done,
                    In a rollickin' run
Wid the rod or the gun, he's the foremost to figure.
                    By Jupiter Ammon,
                    What jack-snipe or salmon
E'er rose to backgammon his tail-fly or trigger!
                    And hark! the view-hollo!
                    'Tis Mack in full follow
On black "Faugh-a-ballagh" the country-side sailin'.
                    Och, but you'd think
                    'Twas old Nimrod in pink,
Wid his spurs cryin' chink over park-wall and palin'.


        He and his wig wid the curls so carroty,
        Aigle eye, and complexion clarety:
                    Here's to his health,
                    Honor and wealth!
        Hip, hip, hooray! wid all hilarity,
        Hip, hip, hooray! That's the way,
        All at once, widout disparity!
                    One more cheer
                    For our docther dear,
        The king of his kind and the crame of all charity.
                    Hip, hip, hooray!

                                                         Alfred Perceval Graves.

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