Cold night, starry skies

And down it goes like the scary kites

Rise! The Merchant prays

It is hard enough to find this prey

Sadness is a man’s best friend

And the travails know no end

Vinegar for a depressed soul!

But a depressed little Jack was not the goal

Aphrodisiacs now saddled with counterfeits

How shall a man accomplish the yesteryear feats?

Time is ticking, nerves are revving

But not the very nerve, this is unnerving!

Relax Merchant, relax

A little patience will make a pax

Think. Think. Think about the smut

Oh no. That’s too much to plot

Maybe it’s the vinegar

Or that bloody Fanta!

Not to worry Merchant, do not furrow

This too shall pass, we try again in the morrow

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