The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck/Abstract of the Surgeon-General’s Report
ABSTRACT OF THE SURGEON-GENERAL’S
REPORT.41
he Surgeon-General by brevet,
With zeal for public service burning,
Thinks this a happy time to get
Another chance to show his learning;
He has in consequence collected
His wits, and stewed them in retorts;
By distillation thus perfected,
He hopes to shine, and so reports
That he has searched authorities
From Johnson down to Ashe and Shelley,
And finds that a militia is
What he is now about to tell ye:
Militia means—such citizens
As e’en in peace are kept campaigning—
The gallant souls that shoulder guns,
And, twice a year, go out a-training!
This point being fixed, we must, I think, sir,
Proceed unto the second part,
Entitled Grog—a kind of drink, sir,
Which, by its action on the heart,
Makes men so brave, they dare attack
A bastion at its angle salient;
This is a well-established fact—
The very proverb says—pot-valiant.
Grog—I’ll define it in a minute—
Take gin, rum, whiskey, or peach-brandy,
Put but a little water in it,
And that is Grog—now understand me,
I mean to say, that should the spirit
Be left out by some careless dog,
It is—I wish the world may hear it!
It is plain water, and not Grog.
Having precisely fixed what Grog is
(My reasoning, sir, that question settles!),
We next must ascertain what Prog is—
Now Prog, in vulgar phrase, is victuals:
This will embrace all kinds of food,
Which on the smoking board can charm ye,
And by digestion furnish blood,
A thing essential in an army!
These things should all be swallowed warm,
For heat, digestion much facilitates;
Cold is a tonic, and does harm;
A tonic always, sir, debilitates.
My plan then is to raise, as fast
As possible, a corps of cooks,
And drill them daily from the last
Editions of your cookery-books!