The Elixir

I hear the horses, the bell 
and the carriage wheels
Find their way into town
And up here on the Hill
A man with round spectacles 
a dusty top hat and a long beard
Adjusting his long coat
And the tone in his voice
Takes a quick swig of whiskey
From his metal flask
He then comes out from behind
The curtains of the wagon
ready to upsell 
The magic in a bottle
He has a small glass jar
for everyone
Name the malady
Your ache, your ill
For a few bucks
He tells:
"Folks, here is the answer
Drink the promised elixir 
contained within"