Remember all those medicines
You took when you were little.
Paregoric, castor oil, vile liquids
Blackened to opaque.
Mom said, "It will make you better", but I do
believe
I'd rather have green apples
And a three-day bellyache.
Where is justice? Sweet as honey.
Who decided in such haste
That everything that's good for you
Should have such awful aftertaste?
Flavor it with grape or cherry.
Mix it with some orange juice.
Tease it with a twist of lemon.
Bribe me with a chocolate moose.
Why can't ice cream be a cure-all
Instead of what we must endure?
Then we'd all be clamoring
To catch the illness for the cure.
Life is filled with irony
And one thing is always true...
It most likely will taste awful
If it's really good for you.
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