He's off on some ramble: And there is Miss Campbell, Enjoying the scramble, Detestable Quiz! The veal they all eye it, But no one will try it, An Ogre would shy it So ruddy as that! And as for the mutton, The cold dish it's put on, Converts to a button Each drop of the fat. The beef without mustard! And there comes the custard To eat with the hare! Such flesh, fowl, and fishing, Such waiting and dishing, I cannot help wishing A woman might swear! R Oh dear! did I ever But no, I did never Well, come, that is clever, To send up the brawn! That cook, I could scold her, Gets worse as she's older; I wonder who told her That woodcocks are drawn! It's really audacious! I cannot look gracious, Lord help the voracious That came for a cram ! There's Alderman Fuller Gets duller and duller. Those fowls, by the colour, Were boil'd with the ham! Well, where is the curry? I'm all in a flurry. No, cook 's in no hurry— A stoppage again! And John makes it wider, A pretty provider ! By bringing up cider Instead of champagne ! My troubles come faster! There's my lord and master Detects each disaster, And hardly can sit : He cannot help seeing, All things disagreeing; If he begins d-ing I'm off in a fit! This cooking?-it's messing! The spinach wants pressing, And salads in dressing Are best with good eggs. And John-yes, already Has had something heady, In keeping his legs. How shall I get through it! I never can do it, I'm quite looking to it, Oh! would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now And have a good cry! A ROW AT THE OXFORD ARMS. "Glorious Apollo from on high beheld us." OLD SONG. As latterly I chanced to pass A Public House, from which, alas! My ear was startled by a din, That made me tremble in my skin, A dreadful hubbub from within, Of voices in a wrangle— Voices loud, and voices high, With now and then a party-cry, Such as used in times gone by To scare the British border; When foes from North and South of Tweed |