William Makepeace Thackeray

Persicos Odi

Dear LUCY, you know what my wish is, –
  	I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
Your silly entrées and made dishes
  	Were never intended for us.
No footman in lace and in ruffles
  	Need dangle behind my arm-chair;
And never mind seeking for truffles,
  	Although they be ever so rare.

But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
  	I pr’ythee get ready at three:
Have it smoking, and tender and juicy,
  	And what better meat can there be?
And when it has feasted the master,
  	’Twill amply suffice for the maid;
Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
  	And tipple my ale in the shade.