Your Name Is Mud
by Helen George

In a little town in Maryland a legend exists,
About a doctor's path that took a terrible twist,
When I hear people say, "Your name is mud,"
The doctor's story hits home with a thud.

Dr. Samuel Mudd is who that saying's about,
And what happened to him is sad, never doubt,
Found guilty of complicity in a murderous scheme,
He lost all respect, his good name not redeemed.

Dr. Mudd took no part in the murder of Lincoln,
Booth acted alone, and then jumped without thinking,
Though he broke his left leg he still rode thirty miles,
To seek the help of Dr. Mudd and to rest for awhile.

Dr. Mudd gave assistance, as a good doctor should,
Set the leg, provided crutches, did what he could,
He would live to regret his actions, for, in fact,
A whole country would blame him for this one selfless act.

Sentenced to life, although innocence he professed,
They said guilt by association is guilt nonetheless,
So, when "your name is mud" is used to defame,
They're enforcing the tale of a good doctor's shame.