A Parody on "Mary's Ghost;" or, The Doctors and Body-snatchers. - A Pathetic Tale, With Numerous Additions.

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67336 *** A PARODY ON “MARY’s GHOST;” OR, The Doctors AND BODY-SNATCHERS. A Pathetic Tale, WITH Numerous Additions NORWICH; Printed by Christopher Berry, Chettleburgh’s Court, Rampant Horse Street, St. Stephen’s. A PARODY ON “MARY’S GHOST.” “’Twas in the middle of the night, To sleep Young William tried; When Mary’s Ghost came stealing in, And stood at his bed-side.” “O William dear! O William dear! My rest eternal ceases; Alas! my everlasting peace, Is broken into pieces.” “I thought the last of all my cares, Would end with my last minute; But though I went to my _long_ home, I did not stay _long_ in it.” “The body-snatchers they have come, And made a snatch at me; It’s very hard them kind of men, Won’t let a body be.” You thought that I was buried deep, Quite decent to the eye; With roses growing o’er my grave, In _Dr-mm-nd’s Rosary_. But William dear, my rest was short, It was not very chary; Them boney-men, they did march in, And bone away your Mary. I wish you’d speak to Mr. D. Who owes the _patent_ ground; And tell him that his _patent_ graves, Are neither safe nor sound. I vow that his _new_ land-of-tombs, Made so genteel and pretty; Is not a bit more safer than, _Old_ Tombland in the City. Alas! it is a joint-stock-thing, The shares are down so _low_; E’re long they’ll break up all the _banks_, Of _Dr-mm-nd, Son & Co._ My tender body was pack’d-up, And in a sack did go; To be a _little_ body at, _Sir Dalley’s_ great depôt. I was cut up as _Stratford_ was, And _Y-ll-ly_ from Carrow; Came stealing in--and stole away, My brains and spinal-marrow. I vow’d that you should have my hand, But fate gives us denial; You’ll find it there at Doctor _Wr-ght’s_, In spirits and a phial. How very hard my William dear,-- How very hard the loss is; That both my legs should have to walk, The Surgery at _Cr-ss’s_. And that my arms,--the tender arms, That now in death do part us; Should both of them be taken down, To dwell at Doctor _C-rt-r’s_. As for my eyes,--the lovely eyes, That once beam’d from their sockets; You’ll find them both at Mr. _H-ll’s_, In his _large_ breeches-pockets. My very skull was lent to _St-rk_, Without any apology; And all my lumps and bumps he found, That are in Craniology. But when my skull came back from St-rk, That clever _organ-finder_; It was found out that _Cr-wc--r_ had, Pluck’d out--every grinder. As for my feet,--the little feet, You used to call so pretty; There’s one I know at the _Town-close_, The t’other’s in the _city_. The _Pupils_ dear, them sweet young men, I vow they wrote on vellum; A letter to the Doctors _big_, And got my cerebellum. As for my hair--the auburn hair, You used to love so well; Alas! it’s gone to deck the head, Of _lovely Mrs. B-ll_. My very liver and my lungs, E’en them were not forgot; But given to them cruel men, _Long J-hns-n_ and _Page Sc-tt_. I thought I should have lost a rib, And many other stores; But Doctor _Ev-ns_ took instead, A _rib_ from Brazen-doors. To say where my soft kidneys are, The _Newspapers_ will tell; Therefore you need not ring at night, At “Doctor _Engl-nd’s_ Bell.” To boil me down--did Doctor _Pure_, _Affirm_ ’twould be a sin; And then Old _J-rv-s_ wink’d his eye, And _swore_ he’d tan my skin. I can’t tell where my head is gone, But _M-lls_ and _N-ch-ls_ can; Also my trunk which is to go, By _M-n-ym-nt’s_ night-van. I wish you’d go to Mr. M. And save me such a ride; “I don’t half like the _outside_ place, They’ve took for my _inside_.” “The cock it crows--I must be gone! My William we must part! But I’ll be yours in death--altho’ _Sweet N-rg-te_ has my heart.” “Don’t go to weep upon my grave, And think that there I be; They hav’n’t left an atom there, Of my _anatomie_.” _BERRY, PRINTER, NORWICH_ *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67336 ***