::: Double, double, toil and trouble fire burn and cauldron bubble. Wrinkled hab from deadly vine slips into the steaming brine. Jalapenos, red and green, Fresno's glow and Bonnet's sting, fleeing before the hand of Frost into heat of Fire are toss'd. Datil's dimple, Cayenne's crinkle, O'er Pimento's point we sprinkle. Tiny tepin, busty bell, simmer in this broth of hell. Here within the pot, immodest, Peter Piper finds the Goddess. Fillet of a big New Mex swims with coriander flecks. See the skinless Stinking Rose; quick! Into the pot she goes! Flavors mingle! Vapors rise! Fingers tingle! Burn thou, eyes! Cover then this mix obscene (making sure the rim is clean); bind it down with gleaming bands, still too hot to touch with hands. Up onto the shelf it goes, adding to some hotluck's woes.

And when thou sit upon the throne,
then the Potion's work is done