Cholera Cured Before-hand

       &nbspPains ventral, subventral,

       &nbspIn stomach or entrail,

       &nbspThink no longer mere prefaces

       &nbspFor grins, groans, and wry faces;

But off to the doctor, fast as ye can crawl! 5

Yet far better 'twould be not to have them at all.





       &nbspNow to 'scape inward aches,

       &nbspEat no plums nor plum-cakes;

       &nbspCry avaunt! new potato—

       &nbspAnd don't drink, like old Cato.

       &nbspAh! beware of Dispipsy,

       &nbspAnd don't ye get tipsy!

       &nbspFor tho' gin and whiskey

       &nbspMay make you feel frisky,

       &nbspThey're but crimps to Dispipsy;

       &nbspAnd nose to tail, with this gipsy

       &nbspComes, black as a porpus,

       &nbspThe diabolus ipse,

       &nbspCall'd Cholery Morpus;

Who with horns, hoofs, and tail, croaks for carrion to feed him,

Tho' being a Devil, no one never has seed him!





       &nbspAh! then my dear honies,

       &nbspThere's no cure for you

       &nbspFor loves nor for monies:—

       &nbspYou'll find it too true.

       &nbspOch! the hallabaloo!

       &nbspOch! och! how you'll wail,

       &nbspWhen the offal-fed vagrant

       &nbspShall turn you as blue

       &nbspAs the gas-light unfragrant,

That gushes in jets from beneath his own tail;—

       &nbsp'Till swift as the mail,

       &nbspHe at last brings the cramps on,

       &nbspThat will twist you like Samson.

       &nbspSo without further blethring,

       &nbspDear mudlarks! my brethren!

       &nbspOf all scents and degrees,

       &nbsp(Yourselves and your shes)

       &nbspForswear all cabal, lads,

       &nbspWakes, unions, and rows,

       &nbspHot dreams and cold salads,

       &nbspAnd don't pig in styes that would suffocate sows!

Quit Cobbett's, O'Connell's and Beelzebub's banners,

And whitewash at once bowels, rooms, hands, and manners!