Christmastide: Its History, Festivities, and Carols

by William Sandys

To cure the love-sick maid, like me there’s none,

For with two of my pills the job I’ve done;

I take her home, and rubs her o’er and o’er,

Then if she dies ne’er believe me more.

To cure your son, good sir, I do fear not,

With this small bottle, which by me I’ve got.

The balsam is the best which it contains,

Rise up, my good Prince George, and fight again.

[Exeunt.