THE HYPOCHONDRIAC
 
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I want to tell you about a pal - a beauty minus paint
Who always thought he'd some sort of serious complaint
No matter what the remedy, he always bought a dose
To cure his ills he'd buy blue pills and bolt them by the gross
He said he'd had the measles bad, the staggers and the ague
Varicose veins and Chancery Lanes, likewise the cattle plague.
Shivers, and shakes and various aches, and also papshelals
And I never saw such a man before for taking chemicals.

Chorus: He wore a belt whenever he felt a pain in his tiddley push
A chemical vest to save his chest from cannoning off the cush
He tried quinine and chloride of lime to cure the pippity pop
Till he became in the What's-a-name a travelling doctor's shop.


When the Asiatic cholera came he swore he'd captured that
So he bought some vaccination tools and practised on the cat
To keep the influenza off that came down here and 'gripped' us
He bathed his feet with turpentine and oil of eucalyptus
He found a wart of a curious sort that hurt his sit-me-down
So he bathed it, sir, with tincture of myrrh and wore a padded gown
I hinted once that I could see his bumps as plain as the Crystal Palace
He told a quack he'd got an attack of aurora borealis.

Chorus:

He used to wear a nose machine whenever he went to bed
He nailed his will to the window-sill in case they found him dead
He lived on brimstone and treacle just to purify his blood
And never risked a bath in case he perished in the mud
One day with a stroke of flibberty bobs this poor young man was taken
So off they went and the doctor sent some medicine to be shaken
The servant girl she could not spell (for she'd been on the boozalem)
She shook him up instead of the stuff, and now he's in Jeruzalem.

Chorus:
 
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Performed by T.E. Dunville (1868-1924)
 
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