To the quack was grateful the whole nation
He cured difficult diseases with incantation
Hung amulet in patient’s arm
So no evil spirit could harm
He earned fame for such a treating fashion.
One day the quack himself fell seriously sick
One by one he well applied all kinds of trick
But none seemed to be of use
The disease to leave did refuse
And eventually the fatal bucket he had to kick.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem