Take a little rum
The less you take the better
Pour it in the lakes
Of Wener or of Wetter.
Dip a spoonful out
And mind you don't get groggy,
Pour it in the lake
Of Winnipissiogie.
Stir the mixture well
Lest it prove inferior,
Then put half a drop
Into Lake Superior.
Every other day
Take a drop in water,
You'll be better soon
Or at least you oughter.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
It is infinitely better to transplant a heart than to bury it so it can be devoured by worms.
It is infinitely better to transplant a heart than to bury it so it can be devoured by worms.
I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk
to the bottom of the sea, it read more
I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk
to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind
and all the worse for the fishes.
In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
read more
In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
A single doctor likes a sculler plies,
And all his art and all his physic tries;
But read more
A single doctor likes a sculler plies,
And all his art and all his physic tries;
But two physicians, like a pair of oars,
Conduct you soonest to the Stygian shores.
I find the medicine worse than the malady.
I find the medicine worse than the malady.
Oh, powerful bacillus,
With wonder how you fill us,
Every day!
While medical detectives,
read more
Oh, powerful bacillus,
With wonder how you fill us,
Every day!
While medical detectives,
With powerful objectives,
Watch your play.
Medicine can only cure curable diseases, and then not always.
Medicine can only cure curable diseases, and then not always.
(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with read more
(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better read more
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow
