Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922.

Calling the Doctor

AH’M sick, doctor-man, Ah’m sick!

Gi’ me some’n’ to he’p me quick,

Don’t,—Ah’ll die!

Tried mighty hard fo’ to cure mahse’f;

Tried all dem t’ings on de pantry she’f;

Couldn’ fin’ not’in’ a-tall would do,

An’ so Ah sent fo’ you.

“Wha’d Ah take?” Well, le’ me see:

Firs’,—horhound drops an’ catnip tea;

Den rock candy soaked in rum,

An’ a good sized chunk o’ camphor gum;

Next Ah tried was castor oil,

An’ snakeroot tea brought to a boil;

Sassafras tea fo’ to clean mah blood;

But none o’ dem t’ings didn’ do no good.

Den when home remedies seem to shirk,

Dem pantry bottles was put to work:

Blue-mass, laud’num, liver pills,

“Sixty-six, fo’ fever an’ chills,”

Ready Relief, an’ A. B. C.,

An’ half a bottle of X. Y. Z.

An’ sev’al mo’ Ah don’t recall,

Dey nevah done no good at all.

Mah appetite begun to fail;

Ah fo’ced some clabber, about a pail,

Fo’ mah of gran’ma always said

When yo’ can’t eat you’re almost dead.

So Ah got scared an’ sent for you.—

Now, doctor, see what you c’n do.

Ah’m sick, doctor-man. Gawd knows Ah’m sick!

Gi’ me some’n’ to he’p me quick,

Don’t,—Ah’ll die!