A Bill of Fare:
For, A Saturday nights Supper, A Sunday morning Breakfast, and
A Munday Dinner, Described in a pleasant new merry Ditie.
To the tune of Cooke Laurell, or, Michaelmas Terme.
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ILe tell you a Jest, which youl hardly beleeve:
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No matter for that, you shall heart right or wrong,
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A hungry appetite may perhaps grieve,
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To heare such a Banquet set forth in a Song,
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He rather would have it then heare ont heel say,
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But I cannot promise him such a faire sight;
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All that I can doe, is with words to display,
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What we had to Supper on Saturday night.
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Inprimis, foure Fancies, two boyld, and two roast,
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A large dish of Endimions (good for ones drinke)
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Six Pelican Chickens as hote as a toast,
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And six Birds of Paradise, brave meat I thinke,
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A couple of Phenix, a Cocke and a Hen,
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That late from Arabia had tane their flight.
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I thinke such a Banquet was nere made for men,
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As wee had to Supper on Saturday night.
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Two paire of Elephants Pettitoes boyld,
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A greene Dragon Spitchcock (an excellent dish)
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One messe by the Cooke was like to be spoild,
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And yet by good hap twas to every ones wish:
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It was a Rhenoceros boyld in Alegant,
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To all who did taste it, gave great delight:
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Judge whether we have not occasion to vaunt
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Of this our rare Supper on Saturday night.
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A Calves head was roast with a pudding ith belly,
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(Of which all the women did heartily feed)
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A dish of Irish Harts hornes boyld to a Jelly,
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(Which most men esteemd as a good dish indeed)
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I had almost forgotten to name a sowcd Owle,
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Brought up to the Master oth Feast as his right,
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He lovd it he said above all other Fowle,
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And this was our Supper on Saturday night.
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The next in due course was foure golden Horshooes,
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Exactly dissolved through a Woodcocks bill,
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Six Camelions in greene-sawce (Maids commonly chuse)
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This dish every day if they may have their will,
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The chine of a Lyon, the haunch of a Beare,
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Well larded with Brimstone and Quicksilver bright:
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Judge Gentlemen, was not this excellent cheere,
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That wee had to Supper on Saturday night.
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A whole Horse sowst after the Russian manner,
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Twelve Pigs of a strange Capadocian Bitch,
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Six dozen of Estridges rost, (which a Tanner
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Did send out of Asia by an old Witch)
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A Leg of an Eagle carbonadoed (in Snow)
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The Pluck of a Grampoise stewd till it was white,
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And thus in particular I let you know,
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What we had to Supper on Saturday night.
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Then came in an Ell of a Jackanapes taile,
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Servd in upon Sippits as dainty as may be:
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O that is a dainty, which rather then faile,
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Might well serve to feast an Utopian Lady:
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Twelve Maids were stewd in the shell of a Shrimp,
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And cause it was meat that was held very light,
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They had for their Sawce a salt pickled Pimpe,
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And this was our Supper on Saturday night.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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TWo Beares sowst pig fashion sent whole to the board,
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And 4 black swans servd by 2 in a dish,
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With a Lobster fried in steaks: take my word,
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I know not well whether it was Flesh or Fish,
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Two Cockatrices, and three Baboones boyld,
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Two dry Salamanders, a very strange sight,
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A Joale of a Whale soundly butterd and oyld,
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And this was our Supper on Saturday night.
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A good dish of Modicums, I know not what,
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In Barbary Vinegar boyld very soft,
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I musd how my Hostis became so huge fat,
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I find tis with eating these Modicums oft:
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A Grosse of Canary birds roasted alive,
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That out of the dishes (for sport) tooke their flight,
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And every one present to catch them did strive:
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This was our rare Supper on Saturday night.
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A shoale of Red-herrings with bels bout their neckes,
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Which made such rare sport that I never saw such,
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They leaped and danced with other fine tricks,
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A man may admire how they could doe so much.
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Two Porposes parboild in May-dew and Roses,
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That unto the smell yeelded so much delight i
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Some (fearing to lose them) laid hold on their noses,
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All this was at Supper on Saturday night.
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Three dozen of Welsh Embassadors bakt,
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Which made such a nois it was heard through that town
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Some hearing the eccho their foreheads so akt,
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That many a smile was orecome with a frowne:
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A dish of Bonitoes, or Fish that can flie,
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That out of the Indies came hither by flight,
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To close by our stomacks, a Gridiron Pye
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We had to our Supper on Saturday night.
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But what commeth after must not be forgotten,
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The Fruit and the Cheese as they follow by course,
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A West-Indian Cheese (not a bit of it rotten,
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Thats made of no worse then the milke of a Horse)
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A dish of Pine-apples, two bushels at least,
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An hundred of Cokernuts for our delight.
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The world may admire at this wonderfull Feast,
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Which we had at Supper on Saturday night.
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Six Pumpians codled with exquisite Art,
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To pleasure the palate of every one there.
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Then we at the last had a great Cabbage Tart;
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Thus have I exactly described our Cheere:
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What all this amounted to, I cannot tell,
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It cost me just nothing, no faith not a mite,
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The Master oth Feast (whom I know very well)
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Did pay for this Supper on Saturday night.
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Wee rose from our mirth with the 12-a-clock Chimes,
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Went every one home as his way did direct;
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And I for my part on the morning betimes,
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Had a Breakfast prepard, which I did not expect:
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My wife, because she was not bidden to Supper,
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(It seemes by the story) she bare me a spight:
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The Breakfast she gave me, to you I will utter,
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It passed our Supper on Saturday night.
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Sunday morning Breakfast.
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FIrst had I a dish of Maundering broath,
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So scalding hote that I could not abide it,
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But I like a patient man (though I was loath)
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Must swallow all down, cause my wife did provide it,
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A many small Reasons she put in the same,
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Her Nose yeelded Pepper that keenly did bite:
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Thought I heres a Breakfast, I thank my good dame,
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That passes our Supper on Saturday night.
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A great Carpe Pye, and a dish of sad Pouts,
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With Crocodile Vinegar, sawce very tart,
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Quoth she thou last night wast among thy sound trouts,
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Now fall to thy Breakfast, and comfort thy heart:
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Then had I a Cup full of stout Wormwood Beere,
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It seemes that in Physicke she has good insight,
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This shewd me the difference twixt the homely cheere
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And our dainty Supper on Saturday night.
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ON this sorry Fare all that day I did feed,
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And on Munday morning on purpose to win her,
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I went and got money to furnish her need,
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And now you shall heare what I had to my Dinner:
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A Pye made of Conies, with Ducks and Pigs eyes,
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With a deale of sweet Hony my taste to delight:
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With sweet Lambe and Chicken my mind to suffice,
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These passed my Supper on Saturday night.
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Another Pye made with a many Sheepes eyes,
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With sweet Sugar Candy that pleased my pallet,
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These severall Banquets my Muse did advise,
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And with her assistance I made this mad Ballet.
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Theres no man thats wise will my paines reprehend
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For most married men will confesse I say right;
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Yet on no occasion this Ditie was pend,
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But to shew our rare Supper on Saturday night.
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