Classic Poem

 But how should he obtain the ‘root of evil’?
  And wherewithal should he o'ercome his fears?
 We read ‘wi' usqueba' we'll face the devil,’—
  Our man resolved to test its virtues here,
 For who but Nick himself, might next appear!
  He raised the potion to his lips, and thought—
 'Twas not, indeed, forbidden by the seer;
  Enough thereof to drown his fears he sought,
Then moistening his palms, he like a Trojan wrought.