"The Hypochondriac" (1874)
by Frederick Woodman Root
from "Songs for Parlor and Professional Singing" (#8)
(Ballad)

1.
I hear about by day and night,
The most acute of maladies;
To picture it in black and white,
The object of this ballad is.
Permit me, hearer, if you please,
To breath in your auricular;
I suffer from the fell disease,
Called "nothing in particular."
Nothing, nothing, nothing in particular.

2.
To render it the more intense,
And nearly unendurable,
My doctor says in confidence,
'Tis totally incurable.
My mind has threatened ere today,
To lose its perpindicular;
And fall a melancholy prey,
To "nothing in particular."
Nothing, nothing, nothing in particular.