In his big, fur coat and with mittens big as

hams,

With his string of bells a-jingling, through the

country side he slams.

There are lots of calls to make and he’s always

on the tear,

A-looming in his cutter like an amiable bear.

And it’s hi-i-i, there!

Johnny don’t ye care,

Though’tis aching something awful and is

most too much to bear.

Just—be—gay!

As soon as it is day,

That pain will go a-flyin’, for the doctor’s on

the way.

There are real, true saints; there are angels all

around,

But there isn’t one that’s welcomer than he is,

I’ll be bound.

When he bustles in the bed-room and he dumps

his buff’ler coat,

And sticks a glass thermometer a-down the

suff’rin throat.

And it’s chirk, cheer up!

Mother, bring a cup!

You’re going to like this bully when you take

a little sup.

There—there—why,

There’s a twinkle in your eye!

You’ll be out again to-morrow, bub; gid-dap,

gid-dap, good-bye!