FullReads

Poor sleepy Rip, M. M. S. S., M. D.,
A puzzled, serious, saddened man was he;
Home from the Deacon’s house he plodded slow
And filled one bumper of “Elixir Pro.”
“Good-by,” he faltered, “Mrs. Van, my dear!
I’m going to sleep, but wake me once a year;
I don’t like bleaching in the frost and dew,
I’ll take the barn, if all the same to you.
Just once a year–remember! no mistake!
Cry, ‘Rip Van Winkle! time for you to wake!’
Watch for the week in May when laylocks blow,
For then the Doctors meet, and I must go.”

Just once a year the Doctor’s worthy dame
Goes to the barn and shouts her husband’s name;
“Come, Rip Van Winkle!” (giving him a shake)
“Rip! Rip Van Winkle! time for you to wake!
Laylocks in blossom! ‘t is the month of May–
The Doctors’ meeting is this blessed day,
And come what will, you know I heard you swear
You’d never miss it, but be always there!”

And so it is, as every year comes round
Old Rip Van Winkle here is always found.
You’ll quickly know him by his mildewed air,
The hayseed sprinkled through his scanty hair,
The lichens growing on his rusty suit–
I’ve seen a toadstool sprouting on his boot–
Who says I lie? Does any man presume?–
Toadstool? No matter–call it a mushroom.
Where is his seat? He moves it every year;
But look, you’ll find him,–he is always here,–
Perhaps you’ll track him by a whiff you know–
A certain flavor of “Elixir Pro.”

Now, then, I give you–as you seem to think
We can give toasts without a drop to drink–
Health to the mighty sleeper,–long live he!
Our brother Rip, M. M. S. S., M. D.!