Take thee nut of hickory, Root of chicory, parsnip, purslane and dock. Add parsley and roses, salsify, samphire and thyme, And roast it or toast it and steep it in brandy With oris-root candy Twelve hours straight by the clock. Then drain it and strain it and keep it from fire; As slowly it mellows, chill it with bellows And coat it with frosting of rime. To keep the taste true, fine it with rue Then age it in cellars like wine. At least for a season live thee by reason, Keep thee from sin or gambling den, And avoid all manner of ire. Then give thee the liquor, this magical ichor, To pure lady whose love you desire, And her heart shall ever be true. Thy babies need never fear rabies nor scabies, Scrofula, glanders, nor pox, If thou blend thee this potion into a lotion And rub on their feeties each day. Thy hens will all lay, thy lambkins shall play And give thee gold nuggets for rocks, Thy heifers give milk, thy worms make thee silk, All creatures shall love thee at sight, If six drops in water thou add to their fodder And knead it and feed it each night. Keep thou this potion and magical lotion Ever beside thee, no night-mare shall ride thee, No ill fate betide thee, nor eye-worm trouble thy sight. No wife shall beshrew thee no bailiff shall rue thee; Just care thou to muse thee and always to choose thee Daily to use it aright.