On the appearance of the President in a Black Bob Wig, who had usually worn a White Tie. OUR President in days of yore Upon his head a Caxen wore, Upon his head he wore a Caxen Of hair as white as any flaxen; And now he heeds it not a fig, But wears upon his poll a wig, A shabby wig upon his poll Of hair as black as any coal. A sad and dismal change, alas! Choose how the deuce it came to pass: Poor President! what evil fate Revers'd the colour of his pate? For if that lamentable dress Were his own choosing, one would guess, By the deep mourning of his head, His wits were certainly @3gone dead.@1 Sure it could ne'er be his own choosing To put his head in such a housing: It must be ominous I fear; Some mischief to be sure is near: Nay, should that black foreboding phiz Speak from that sturdy trunk of his, Who could forbear to think it spoke Just like a raven from an oak? A Caxen of so @3black@1 a hue On our affairs looks plaguy @3blue:@1 We do not meet with such an omen In any story, @3Greek or Roman:@1 A comet or a blazing star Were not so terrible by far; No; in that wig the Fates have sent us Of all the portents the most portentous. Who does not tremble for the club That looks upon his wig—so scrub! Without a knot! without a tie! What can we hang together by? So scrub a wig to look upon! How can the dire phenomenon Be long before it has undone us? Oh! 'tis a cruel @3bob@1 upon us. The president, with wig so white, Appear'd another mortal quite; Nay, when he sprinkled it with powder, No man in @3Manchester@1 talk'd louder. How blest were we! but now, alack! The wearing of a wig so black, Such a disgrace has brought about, Burn it! 'twill never be worn out. Thou art a Lawyer, honest Joe, I prithee, wilt thou let us know Whether the @3black act@1 won't extend So as to reach our worthy friend? What! can he wear a wig so shabby, When folks are hang'd from @3Waltham Abbey,@1 For loving ven'son, and appearing So like his head, so much like fearing? You're a Divine, Sir; I'll ask you, Is that a Christian, or a Jew, Or Turk? "Aye, Turk as sure as hops, "You see the Sar'cen in his chops:" And yet these chops, tho' now so homely, Were christian-like before, and comely. That wicked wig! to make a face So absolutely void of @3grace!@1 You, master Doctor, will you try Your skill in Physiognomy? Of what disease is it a symptom? Don't look at me, but look at him, Tom. Is it not @3scurvy@1 think you? "Yes, "If aught be scurvyish, it is. "A frenzy 'tis, or per'wigmanie "That overruns his pericranie." "It seems to me a complication "Of all distempers in some fashion: "It is a @3coma,@1 that is plain, "A great obstruction of the brain. "A man to take his brains and bury 'em "In such a wig, shews a @3delirium!@1 "I never saw a human face "That suffer'd more by such a @3case.@1 "If you examine it, you'll see 'tis "Pissburnt; that shews a @3diabetes.@1 "Bad weather has relax'd, you see, "The fibres to a great degree. "Certes the head, in these black tumours, "Is full of vitiated humours; "Of vitiated humours full, "Which shews a numbness of the skull. "So of the rest"—But now, friend Thomas, The cure will be expected from us; For while it hangs on him, of course It will, if possible, grow worse. "@3Habit@1 so foul! there is, in short, "Nothing but salivation for't." But what can salivation do? It has been flux'd and reflux'd too. But why to doctors do I urge on The bus'ness of a barber-surgeon? Your barber-surgeon is the man It must be cur'd by, if it can. Ring for my landlord Lawrenson; Come let's e'en try what can be done; A remedy there may be found Provided that the brain be sound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BROWN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE FLORENCE VANE by PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET; OCTOBER, 1746 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |