Our Fathers of Old - Words by Rudyard Kipling, arrangement by Leslie Fish

Excellent herbs had our fathers of old,
Excellent herbs for easing their pain,
Alexanders and Marigolds,
Eyebright and Orris and Elecampagne,
Basil, Rocket, Valerian, Rue,
Almost singing themselves they run,
Vervain, Dittany, and Call-me-to-you,
Cowslip and Melilot, Rose-of-the Sun,
Anything green that grew out of the mould,
Was an excellent herb to our fathers of old.

Excellent books had our fathers of old,
Excellent books of the herbs and the stars,
The Sun was lord of the Marigold,
Basil and Rocket belonged to Mars,
Pat as a sum in division it goes,
Every Herb had a Planet bespoke,
Who but Venus could govern the Rose?
Who but Jupiter own the Oak?
Simply and plainly the facts are retold,
In the wonderful books of our fathers of old.

Wonderful little, when all is said,
Wonderfull little our forefathers knew,
Half their remedies cured you quite dead,
Most of their teaching was simply untrue,
'Look to the stars when a patient is ill,
Dirt has nothing to do with disease,
Bleed and blister as much as you will,
Blister and purge him as oft as you please.'
Wherefore enormous and most manifold,
Errors were made by our fathers of old.

Yet when the plague was sore in the land,
And neither Plant nor Planet assuaged,
They took their lives in their lanced hands,
And oh what a wonderful war they waged,
Aye when the crosses were chalked on the door,
Aye when the terrible dead-carts rolled,
Excellent courage our forefathers bore,
Excellent heart had our fathers of old.

If it be certain, as Galen says,
And sage Hippocrates holds as much,
That those afflicted by doubt and dismay,
Are mightily helped by a dead-man's touch,
Then be good to us Stars above,
Then be good to us Herbs below,
We are afflicted by what we can prove,
We are distracted by all that we know,
So down from Heaven or up from your mould,
Send us the hearts of our fathers of old.