ACTIVE REMEDIES
[A Paris doctor declares that the cake-walk, freely indulged in, will kill the hardiest microbe.]
The waltz is not without its charm.
The polka has its points.
The barn-dance need not cause alarm
To those who’ve supple joints.
The cellar-flap with joy is seen
(Though seldom at a ball).
But when it comes to Hygiene
The cake-walk beats them all.
There was a time in days gone by,
When, if I felt unwell,
Unto my doctor I would fly,
In haste my symptoms tell,
And pay the varlet thumping fees.
It seemed my only chance.
But now MDs no longer please.
It’s cheaper far to dance.
Should limb or cranium throb and ache,
I don my lightest shoe,
And hired menials music make.
It’s what they’re paid to do.
“Down South”’s exhilarating strains
Burst from the gay banjo.
Quaint rag-time steps dispel my pain,
And urge a healthy glow.
Ye invalids, though old and stout,
Accept the proffered boon.
Forgetting gout, step boldly out
To emulate the coon.
Attempt the measures I suggest.
Scorn not what I advise.
The plan, believe me, is the best.
This way salvation lies.