Oh Pharmacy,
I came to you with throat so sore,
And you did claim that you had the cure,
But not until at work I found,
The ingredients were entirely pure.

Now, I trusted your white coat and word,
And thought that drugs you would give,
Not hippy stuff of herbs and oils,
And warnings of effects laxative.

It’s made my whole mouth taste of arse,
At least an arse of pot pourri,
And instead of being ‘quick action’,
A gag reflex it gave to me.

So pharmacist, when asked for drugs,
Give something real, and heed this note,
Cos rather than sucking on that crap,
I choose to work with a sore throat.