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