Cod-Liver Oil

ON the bleak shore of Norway, I’ve lately been told, Large numbers of cod-fish are found, And the animals’ livers are afterwards sold At so many “pfennigs” per pound; From which is extracted, with infinite toil, A villainous fluid called cod-liver oil! Now, I don’t mind a powder, a pill, or a draught— Though I mingle the former with jam— And many’s the mixture I ‘ve cheerfully quaff’d, And the pill I have gulp’d like a lamb. But then I envelop my pills in tin-foil, And I can’t do the same with my cod-liver oil! In the course of my lifetime I’ve swallow’d enough To have floated a ship of the line, And it’s purely the fault of this horrible stuff That I’ve ceased to enjoy ginger wine. For how can you wonder to see me recoil From a liquor I mix’d with my cod-liver oil? There are few deeds of daring from which I should quail- There are few things I ‘d tremble to do— But there ’s one kind of tonic that makes me turn pale, And quite spoils my appetite, too; But, you see, just at present, I ‘ve got none to spoil— So I don’t mind alluding to cod-liver oil!