Distracted Druggist

'A shilling's worth of quinine, please,'
The customer demanded.
The druggist went down on his knees
And from a cupboard handed
The waiting man a tiny flask:
'Here, Sir, is what you ask.'

The buyer paid and went away,
The druggist rubbed his glasses,
Then sudden shouted in dismay:
'Of all the silly asses!'
And out into the street he ran
To catch the speeding man.

Cried he: 'That quinine that you bought,
(Since all may errors make),
I find was definitely not,-
I sold you strychnine by mistake.
Two shillings is its price, and so
Another bob you owe.'

Robert Service The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.