AN ECCENTRIC BUSH DOCTOR
Though doctors may your name discardAnd say you physicked vilely,I would I were as good a bardAs you a doctor, Wylie!
How often, when your skill subduedThe fever ranging highly,You won a bushman's gratitude,Though little more, Doc Wylie!
How oft across the regions wideWhere scrub for many a mile layThe bushman rode, as bushmen ride,To seek your aid, Doc Wylie!
But now, when bushman's wife or childLies ill and suffering direly,He'll need to ride a weary whileBefore he finds Doc Wylie.
I hope where they have made your bed,And where these verses I lay,They'll raise a board above your head--And write your name--Doc Wylie!