The subject of this parody was given me by a friend, to whom also I am indebted for some of the stanzas. Refpecting the patent coffins herein mentioned, after the manner of Catholic Poets, who confess the actions they attribute to their Saints and Deity to be but fiction, I hereby declare that it is by no means my defign to depreciate that useful invention; and all persons to whom this Ballad shall come, are requested to take notice, that nothing here asserted concerning the aforesaid Coffins is true, except that the maker and patentee lives by St. Martin's Lane. THE SURGEON'S WARNING. The Doctor whispered to the Nurse And the Surgeon knew what he said, And he grew pale at the Doctor's tale And trembled in his sick bed. Now fetch me my brethren and fetch them with speed The Surgeon affrighted said, The Parson and the Undertaker, Let them hasten or I shall be dead. The Parson and the Undertaker They hastily came complying, And the Surgeon's Prentices ran up stairs When they heard that their master was dying, The Prentices all they entered the room By one, by two, by three, With a sly grin came Joseph in, First of the company. The Surgeon swore as they enter'd his door, "Twas fearful his oaths to hear, Now send these scoundrels to the Devil, For God's sake my brethren dear. He foam'd at the mouth with the rage he felt Then out they sent the Prentices, The fit it left him weak, He look'd at his brothers with ghastly eyes, And faintly struggled to speak. All kinds of carcasses I have cut up, And the judgment now must be— But brothers I took care of you, I have made candles of infants fat I have bottled babes unborn, and dried And my Prentices now will surely come And I who have rifled the dead man's grave Bury me in lead when I am dead, My brethren I intreat, And see the coffin weigh'd I beg Lest the Plumber should be a cheat. |