Friends flatter and flatter, I wish they would chatter; What _can_ be the matter That nothing comes next? How very unpleasant! Lord! there is the pheasant! Not wanted at present, I’m born to be vext! The pudding brought on too And aiming at ton too! And where is that John too, The plague that he is? 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! My fate’s to be fluster’d, 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! 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, That makes him unsteady In keeping his legs. How _shall_ I get through it! I never can do it, I’m quite looking to it, To sink by and by. Oh! would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now And have a good cry! THE GREEN MAN.