Classic Poem

My taking Phisick to cuer my lamenes I make the Doctor speak

Courage my Lord: let not your fancy skan
The mixt complection of your Potian
Though it be nautious in tast and smell
Those first must suffer ill that would be well
Let not a female squeamishnes conclud
You weak but putt on manly fortitude
And roundly take it up then doun your belly
Then gutts will rumble and arse squirt I tel yea.