Folded Foil - a poem

Sometimes people say to me
Cast iron stomach is needed to eat spice
Sometimes I think to myself
Man oh man wouldn't that be nice

For if sausage I ingest
Or a dish with lots of pepper
You know just where I will rest
And what I shall need to deliver

This admission may not be such
Oh yes I would give up that toil
For my stomach isn't iron, so much
If only it weren't made of folded foil