The times were hard when Rip to manhood grew; They always will be when there's work to do. He tried at farming,--found it rather slow,-- And then at teaching--what he did n't know; Then took to hanging round the tavern bars, To frequent toddies and long-nine cigars, Till Dame Van Winkle, out of patience, vexed With preaching homilies, having for their text A mop, a broomstick, aught that might avail To point a moral or adorn a tale, Exclaimed, "I have it! Now, then, Mr. V. He's good for something,--make him an M. D.!" The die was cast; the youngster was content; They packed his shirts and stockings, and he went. How hard he studied it were vain to tell; He drowsed through Wistar, nodded over Bell, Slept sound with Cooper, snored aloud on Good; Heard heaps of lectures,--doubtless understood,-- A constant listener, for he did not fail To carve his name on every bench and rail. Months grew to years; at last he counted three, And Rip Van Winkle found himself M. D. Illustrious title! in a gilded frame He set the sheepskin with his Latin name, RIPUM VAN WINKLUM, QUEM we--SCIMUS--know IDONEUM ESSE--to do so and so. He hired an office; soon its walls displayed His new diploma and his stock in trade, A mighty arsenal to subdue disease, Of various names, whereof I mention these Lancets and bougies, great and little squirt, Rhubarb and Senna, Snakeroot, Thoroughwort, Ant. Tart., Vin. Colch., Pil. Cochiae, and Black Drop, Tinctures of Opium, Gentian, Henbane, Hop, Pulv. Ipecacuanhae, which for lack Of breath to utter men call Ipecac, Camphor and Kino, Turpentine, Tolu, Cubebs, "Copeevy," Vitriol,--white and blue,-- Fennel and Flaxseed, Slippery Elm and Squill, And roots of Sassafras, and "Sassaf'rill," Brandy,--for colics,--Pinkroot, death on worms,-- Valerian, calmer of hysteric squirms, Musk, Assafoetida, the resinous gum Named from its odor,--well, it does smell some,-- Jalap, that works not wisely, but too well, Ten pounds of Bark and six of Calomel.