Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/448

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How Shall I Dine?
Gently blow and stir the fire,
Lay the mutton down to roast,
Dress it nicely I desire,
In the dripping put a toast,
That I hunger may remove:
Mutton is the meat I love.

On the dresser see it lie,
Oh! the charming white and red!
Finer meat ne'er met my eye,
On the sweetest grass it fed:
Let the jack go swiftly round,
Let me have it nicely bi owned.

On the table spread the cloth,
Let the knives be sharp and clean:
Pickles get and salad both,
Let them each be fresh and green:
With small beer, good ale, and wine,
O ye gods! how I shall dine.

Hot Day.
What a plague's a summer breakfast,
Eat whate'er you will!
A roll is but a nasty thing,
And toast is nastier still.

Then how to pass the time away
Till dinner—there's the doubt:
You're hot if you stay in the house—
Your hot if you go out.

When dinner comes, oh, help us all!
Such frying! such a stew!
You're hot if you don't touch a bit—
Your hotter if you do.

Then after dinner what to do?
No knowing where to rove—
The gentlemen are hot below,
The ladies hot above.