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“Oh doctor, doctor, won’t you hurry?
My mind has gone with all the worry.
The sweat upon his face is hot and prickly.
His pulse is weak, his brow’s on fire,
I’m scared that he might soon expire.
Oh won’t you come around and see him quickly?”
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“Dear lady, there’s no need for haste.
Besides, my work is even-paced,
For panic is unseemly and unholy.
Keep him warm and bathe his face,
And by your love, and God’s good grace,
By morning, he will start improving slowly.”
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“Oh doctor, doctor, this is urgent.
I’m frightened he won’t be resurgent.
He’s ailing fast and looking very sickly.
We all agree that his condition
Warrants calling a physician.
Please will you not come and tend him quickly?”
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“If it’s a question of his pallor,
I recommend a trip to Tallaght.
I guarantee that he’ll recover wholly.
The air out there is fresh and pure,
Just like it was in Glenmalure –
I’m certain it will help revive him slowly.”
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“Oh doctor, doctor, rail at Fate!
We can’t afford to relocate,
Our monetary problems are spread thickly.
But if you’d come, maybe inject
A little cash, it might correct
His illness and he might recover quickly.”
Leave a comment on verse 6 0
“Dear lady, are you quite deranged?
Such remedy can’t be arranged.
Do you think I tend to your man solely?
For cash is too thin on the ground
For me to spread it all around,
Just pray to God that he’ll recover slowly.”