If I were living in the Dark Ages,
Where my feet tread would be worth a fortune.
The spice that’s collected here in stages
Would have been mined from the base of this dune.
What could be carried away in a sack
Would be stored away in someone’s attic,
And when a little flavor they did lack,
A tiny pinch from their stash, they would pick.
But it did not work well for currency
Because it would diminish when they ate,
Then they would have to go back to the sea,
So they could buy more morsels for their plate.
You cannot give them grief for this small fault,
For life is better with a little salt.