A Savour for Each Turning of the Year, Mint, oh, so Gentle
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Mine appetite, with hope to come again, Hath vanish'd, meal being done and suffer'd pain, Within a bed of sickness, hid from sight, A pleasing savour may restore its light
Gaviscon doth bide a joyous prospect
Other physic didst thou assay, and anon, to the privy didst thou hie
Doth set to labor forthwith, Endureth twice the span of common antacids, A singular compound, a union rare, for heartburn's pangs and indigestion's care
It doth forge a shield to ease the burning in thy breast, and doth abate the o'erflowing sour humours of the belly
My bosom and my paunch, these be the realms most keenly eyed throughout my days; A peregrination so long and grievous, a taper yearned for with utmost fervor
Hark, a clamour! A grievous ache. Wherefore is this, I say with fervent tongue?
The worth of adversity doth lie in fortitude most true
OFTTIMES doth it BEFALL, A GRIPE of HEART, or STOMACH'S thrall, GAVISCON, 'tis THINE to HEAL
Thou dost a bulwark build so firm and fast, that envy's gaze upon thee oft is cast
A Savour for Each Turning of the Year, Mint, oh, so Gentle
When Hunger doth return, adventures bold and long do tarry








