August 1920

In discussing the Masseurs’ Registration Bill in the New Zealand Parliament, Mr. Isitt said that three doctors in consultation had diagnosed appendicitis and advised operation, but a woman declared the case to be measles and the woman was right. The general opinion of the politicians who spoke in the discussion is that doctors belong to a close corporation and should not be further entrenched in their privileges. If the medical profession had the same voting strength as the coalminers or the waterside-workers it would be immune from criticism by members of Parliament. It is a curious anomaly that Parliament prescribes certain qualifications for medical practitioners, but the only qualification necessary for a member of Parliament is that he must attract more votes than his opponents, occasionally at the cost of his self-respect. He need know nothing of history or political economy, and, indeed, sometimes a man is elected to Parliament who is devoid of average intelligence.

Proof indeed? Let this suffice it—

The plain tale of Mr. Isitt;

He, a member of Parliament,

Thitherward by the people sent,

Tells how a lad in sickness sore

Did bring three doctors to his door.

They talked together and looked wise

And operation did advise.

But a wise woman, standing by,  

Saw the lad had a bleary eye,

Heard him cough, and observed the spots,

Called the doctors three silly sots.

“Measles it is, you silly hens!

“Nothing’s wrong with ‘is abdomens!

“Blinder than the politicians!”

Bawled she at the three physicians.

The patient then sat up in bed,

And flung a bottle at the head

Of each doctor, and loud shouted,

When he saw the three were routed—

“Other help I shall now enlist:

“I’ll send for a homeopathist,

“A quack masseur with supple wrist,

“A chiropractic for my spine

“To set the vertebrae in line,

“Metaphysicians, come along

“And join the merry quacking throng,

“Also the Christian science crew,

“Likewise faith healers shall come too,

“And a messenger must be sent

“For Mister Isitt, Parliament!”

So this is wisdom, it is said,

Political wisdom in N. Zed.

Take your boots to navvies to botch,

And let the blacksmith mend your watch.

Close corp’rations do not favour—

If you’re sick, consult a neighbour.

If you are tired, rest on your head,

And keep awake when you’re abed.

If you are ever in a fix,

Study the latest politics.

To Mister Isitt pay good heed;

Verbum sap. should be all you need.

August 1920

In discussing the Masseurs’ Registration Bill in the New Zealand Parliament, Mr. Isitt said that three doctors in consultation had diagnosed appendicitis and advised operation, but a woman declared the case to be measles and the woman was right. The general opinion of the politicians who spoke in the discussion is that doctors belong to a close corporation and should not be further entrenched in their privileges. If the medical profession had the same voting strength as the coalminers or the waterside-workers it would be immune from criticism by members of Parliament. It is a curious anomaly that Parliament prescribes certain qualifications for medical practitioners, but the only qualification necessary for a member of Parliament is that he must attract more votes than his opponents, occasionally at the cost of his self-respect. He need know nothing of history or political economy, and, indeed, sometimes a man is elected to Parliament who is devoid of average intelligence.

Proof indeed? Let this suffice it—

The plain tale of Mr. Isitt;

He, a member of Parliament,

Thitherward by the people sent,

Tells how a lad in sickness sore

Did bring three doctors to his door.

They talked together and looked wise

And operation did advise.

But a wise woman, standing by,  

Saw the lad had a bleary eye,

Heard him cough, and observed the spots,

Called the doctors three silly sots.

“Measles it is, you silly hens!

“Nothing’s wrong with ‘is abdomens!

“Blinder than the politicians!”

Bawled she at the three physicians.

The patient then sat up in bed,

And flung a bottle at the head

Of each doctor, and loud shouted,

When he saw the three were routed—

“Other help I shall now enlist:

“I’ll send for a homeopathist,

“A quack masseur with supple wrist,

“A chiropractic for my spine

“To set the vertebrae in line,

“Metaphysicians, come along

“And join the merry quacking throng,

“Also the Christian science crew,

“Likewise faith healers shall come too,

“And a messenger must be sent

“For Mister Isitt, Parliament!”

So this is wisdom, it is said,

Political wisdom in N. Zed.

Take your boots to navvies to botch,

And let the blacksmith mend your watch.

Close corp’rations do not favour—

If you’re sick, consult a neighbour.

If you are tired, rest on your head,

And keep awake when you’re abed.

If you are ever in a fix,

Study the latest politics.

To Mister Isitt pay good heed;

Verbum sap. should be all you need.