Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/204

202 "You'll send for me, when you're in need—
 * My name is —your life I've saved it!"

"My rival!" shrieked the invalid,
 * And drew a mighty sword and waved it:

"This to thy weazand, Christian pest!"
 * Aloud the Turk in frenzy yelled it,

And drove right through the Doctor's chest
 * The sabre and the hand that held it.



The blow was a decisive one
 * And grew deadly pasty—

"Now see the mischief that you've done,—
 * You Turks are so extremely hasty.