A NEW SONG.
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I.
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YE Lovers of Physick, come lend me your Ear,
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All disinterested, I pray you draw near,
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My Tales of Doctor and of a Professor,
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The first a skilld Man, the last an Oppressor.
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Down; down--down, dery, down.
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II.
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Our worthy Professor (whom few can excel)
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Is a Spreader of Calumny, greedy as Hell,
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His principal Study is hoarding of Pelf,
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.And neer does an Action but tends to himself.
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Dery down.
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III.
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This Gown-man so noted, by silly, mean Lies,
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Attackd here a Stranger for curing of Eyes,
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A Subject on which he himself neer spake Sense,
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Tho he Lecturd ont yearly for gaining of Pence.
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Dery down.
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IV.
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He began on the Doctors Arrival to smell,
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(For joind with his Greed he is cunning and fell)
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That a Rival so bright, who no Secret did hide,
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Might quickly eclipse a few Grains of his Pride.
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Dery down.
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V.
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To ward off this Blow, from Morning to Night,
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Thus accosted his Mates, and said it was right
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To discourage a Man of such Learning and Parts,
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Because prejudicial to Masters of Arts.
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Dery down.
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VI.
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You know we can teach, when our Students have Clink,
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But those of toom Pockets cant learn (as we think)
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If they want but a Shilling of our common Fee,
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We send them a-packing, to our Class theyre not free.
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Dery down.
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VII.
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Ye cannot forget, evn a Friend of our own,
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A Brother by Trade, well skilld, of Renown,
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Was debarrd a Dissection, he intended to make,
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At my Instigation, lest my Trade it should break.
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Dery down.
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VIII.
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Is it fair that a Stranger go off with our Wealth?
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Let the Blind and Blear-eyd be deprivd of their Health
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Far rather, than that it shoud ever be said,
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That Our College, so famous, wants Skill in the Trade.
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Dery down.
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IX.
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Our Noble Infirmary, built at great Cost,
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By the Bounty of those who love the Poor most.
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Shall never be filld for their Use, by this Man,
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For there I shall swagger, let em do what then can.
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Dery down.
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X.
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And thus our Professor, possessd with Envy,
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Spreads Stories about, of this and that Eye
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As hurt by the Doctor, who truly did cure;
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Beware then, my Friends, of what comes from his Lure.
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Dery down
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XI.
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But great Doctor Taylor thou neat-handed Man,
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Judge not of our Nation by this single one,
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For those of the College who do you oppose,
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Are but such the Professor can lead by the Nose
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XII.
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Let those do their best by Libels in Print,
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The Men of sound Sense will neer take the Hit
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To condemn you at Random, not knowing yo[u]
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Theyll leave that to the College, those Wits of [?]
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XIII.
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Much more I coud say, as the helpless do groan,
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Deprivd of their House thats truly their own,
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What Grudge must the Donors retain in their Breast
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To see it lockd up; and the Poor thus opprest.
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Dery do[wn]
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XIV.
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But the rest Ill refer till the Doctor is gone,
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Then with Grief and with Tears well be making our Moan;
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When none of the Faculty dare use the Needle,
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Tho they Strutted thro France, and there dancd to a Fiddle.
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Dery down.
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