64 THE DOCTOR. And when I see thee hang thy head, My mother. For God, who lives above the skies, THE DOCTOR. FROM WILLIE WINKIE. My mother. ANN TAYLOR. O, Do not fear the doctor; To nurse you like a tender flower, And pleasant tales to tell; He brings the bloom back to your cheek, The blithe blink to your eye, An 't were not for the doctor, My bonnie bairn might die. O, who would fear the doctor, His powder or his pill – You just a wee bit swallow take, And there's an end of ill. He'll make you sleep sound as a top, A kind man is the doctor, He spares no toil by day or night And O, he loves the bairnies well My bonnie bairn might die. ALEXANDER SMART. THE HAND-POST. THE night was dark, the sun was hid Across the path the owlet flew, And screamed along the blast, And onward with a quickened step, At intervals, amid the gloom A flash of lightning played, And showed the ruts with water filled, And the black hedge's shade. E 65 66 THE HAND-POST. Again in thickest darkness plunged, And now he thought he spied beyond In deadly white it upward rose, Poor Henry felt his blood run cold But well, thought he, no harm, I'm sure, So calling all his courage up, He to the goblin went; And eager through the dismal gloom And when he came well nigh the ghost For 't was a friendly hand-post stood THE HAND-POST. And well, thought he, one thing I've learnt, Nor soon shall I forget, Whatever frightens me again, To march straight up to it. And when I hear an idle tale ANN TAYLOR. 67 |