Doc's public sperit—when the sick
's not takin' all his time
And he's got some fer politics—
is simple yit sublime:—
He'll talk his principles—and they
air honest;—but the sly
Friend strikes him first, election-day,
he'd 'commodate, er die!
XXIII
And yit, though Doc, as all men knows,
is square straight up and down,
That vote o' his is—well, I s'pose—
the cheapest one in town;—
A fact 'at's sad to verify,
as could be done on oath—
I've voted Doc myse'f—And I
was criminal fer both!
XXIV
You kin corrupt the ballot-box—corrupt
yourse'f, as well—
Corrupt some neighbers,—but
old Doc's as oncorruptible
As Holy Writ. So putt a pin
right there!—Let Sifers be,
I jucks! he wouldn't vote agin
his own worst inimy!
XXV
When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low
with fever, and Doc Glenn
Told Euby Cynth 'ud haf to go—
they sends fer Sifers then!...
Doc sized the case: "She's starved," says he,
"fer warter—yes, and meat!
The treatment 'at she'll git from me
's all she kin drink and eat!"