One of the singular characters of Dublin, a generation ago, was John Brenan, M.D., a physician who edited the _Milesian Magazine_, a scurrilous publication of the satirist class, that flung dirt on every one dignified enough for the mob to take pleasure in seeing him bespattered with filth. The man certainly was a great blackguard, but was not destitute of wit. How he carried on the war with the members of his own profession the following song will show:-- "THE DUBLIN DOCTORS. "My gentle muse, do not refuse To sing the Dublin Doctors, O; For they're the boys Who make the joys Of grave-diggers and proctors, O. We'll take 'em in procession, O, We'll take 'em in succession, O; But how shall we Say who is he Shall lead the grand procession, O? Least wit and greatest malice, O, Least wit and greatest malice, O, Shall mark the man Who leads the van, As they march to the gallows, O. First come then, Doctor Big Paw, O, Come first then, Doctor Big Paw, O; Mrs Kilfoyle Says you would spoil Its shape, did you her wig paw, O. Come next, dull Dr Labat, O, Come next, dull Dr Labat, O; Why is it so, You kill the doe, Whene'er you catch the rabbit, O? Come, Harvey, drunken dandy, O, Come, Harvey, drunken dandy, O; Thee I could paint A walking saint, If you lov'd God like brandy, O. Come next, Doctor Drumsnuffle, O, Come next, Doctor Drumsnuffle, O; Well stuffed with lead, Your leather head Is thick as hide of Buffaloe. Come next, Colossus Jackson, O, Come next, Colossus Jackson, O; As jack-ass mute, A burthen brute, Just fit to trot with packs on, O. Come next, sweet Paddy Rooney, O, Come next, sweet Paddy Rooney, O; Tho' if you stay Till judgment's day, You'll come a month too soon-y, O. Come next, sweet Breeny Creepmouse, O, Come next, sweet Breeny Creepmouse, O; Thee heaven gave Just sense to shave A corpse, or an asleep mouse, O. For I say, creep-mouse Breeny, O, For I say, creep-mouse Breeny, O; Thee I can't sing The fairy's king, But I'll sing you their Queen-y O; For I say, Dr Breeny, O, For I say, Dr Breeny, O; If I for once Called you a dunce, I'd shew a judgment weeny, O. Come, Richards dull and brazen, O, Come, Richards dull and brazen, O; A prosperous drone, You stand alone, For wondering sense to gaze on, O. Then come, you greasy blockhead, O, Then come, you greasy blockhead, O; Balked by your face, We quickly trace, Your genius to your pocket, O. Come, Crampton, man of capers, O, Come, Crampton, man of capers, O; . . . . .