Whereas a cook would soon unseat him, And make his own churchwardens eat him. Not Irving could convert those vermin Th' Anthropophages, by a sermon; Whereas your Osborne, in a trice, Would "take a shin of beef and spice,"And raise them such a savory smother, No negro would devour his brother, But turn his stomach round as loth As Persians, to the old black brothFor knowledge oftenest makes an entry, As well as true love, thro' the pantry, Where beaux that came at first for feeding Grow gallant men and get good breeding;Exempli gratia in the West, Ship-traders say there swims a nest Lined with black natives, like a rookery, But coarse as carrion crows at cookery.— This race, though now called O. Y. E. men, (To show they are more than A. B. C. men,) Was once so ignorant of our knacks They laid their mats upon their backs, And grew their quartern loaves for luncheon On trees that baked them in the sunshine. As for their bodies, they were coated, (For painted things are so denoted ;) But, the naked truth is stark primevals, That said their prayers to timber devils, Allowed polygamy-dwelt in wig-wamsAnd, when they meant a feast, ate big yams.And why?-because their savage nook *Cook to the late Sir John Banks. Had ne'er been visited by Cook- I' the mouth; but then, with proper tackle, Ergo (I say) he first made changes Of tracts abridged from Glasse and Rundell, And round her loins put on a striped Towel, where fingers might be wiped, And then her breast clothed like her ribs, (For aprons lead of course to bibs,) And, by the time she had got a meat Screen, veiled her back, too, from the heatAs for her gravies and her sauces, (Tho' they reformed the royal fauces,) Her forcemeats and ragouts-I praise not, Because the legend further says not, Except, she kept each Christian high-day, 229 LINES TO A FRIEND AT COBHAM. "TIS pleasant, when we've absent friends, Have pigs you will, and sometimes kill, And cannot eat your home-grown meat, Of hen and cock, you'll have a stock, Some orchard trees of course you'll lease, You'll sometimes have wax-lighted rooms, 230 A GOOD DIRECTION. A CERTAIN gentleman, whose yellow cheek Indeed, he scarcely ever knew a well day; A very famous Author upon Diet, Our Patient, after some impatient rambles "Here, my good man, Just tell me if you can, Pray which is Mr. Aberfeldie's house?" "But stop! my worthy fellow!-one word more— 'How!-why you'll see blue pillars at the door!" ΤΟ SONNET. Allegory-A moral vehicle.-Dictionary. I HAD a Gig-Horse, and I called him Pleasure, He was so fast and showy, quite a treasure; A son called Frolic, who was never still: ΤΟ * WITH A FLASK OF RHINE WATER. THE old Catholic City was still In the Minster the vespers were sung, And, re-echoed in cadences shrill, The last call of the trumpet had rung; Surely, that is the Eau de Cologne." 231 |