Perfume of perfect botany
I'd rather have you spelling lovely
On my wrist than in the field
From one flask to the other
We transfer at last
But only when we reach the boiling point
If through the condenser we surpass
With flying colors? No, dear,
This isn't a grade in which to pass
The colors will fade away but I'm here
To bring you comfort at last
Here, smell. See the difference?
I can breathe you in all day long
Mother nature can bounce back
Through the sinuses, I'm told.