A Strange Banquet,
OR,
The Divels Entertainment by Cook Laurell at the Peak in
Devonshire, with a true Relation of the several dishes.
The tune is, Cook Laurell.
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COok Laurel would have the Divel his guest
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And bid him whom to Peak to dinner,
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Where Fiend had never such a feast
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Prepared at the charge of a sinner.
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With a hey down down a down down.
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His stomack was quesie he came thither coacht
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The joggings had caused his cruets to rise,
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To help which he cal'd for a Puritan Poarcht
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That used to turn up the white of his eyes.
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With a hey, etc.
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And so he recovered unto his wish,
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He sate him down and began to eat:
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A Promooter in Plumb-broth was the first dish,
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His own privy Kitchen had no such meat.
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With a hey, etc.
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Yet though with this he much was taken
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Upon a sudden he shifted his trencher,
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As soon as he spied the Bawd and Bacon,
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By which you may know the Divels a wenther.
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With a hey, etc.
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Six pickled Taylors sliced and cut,
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With Semsters and tire-women fit for his pallet
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With Feathermen and Perfumers put
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Some twelve in a charger to make a grand sallet
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With a hey, etc.
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A rich fat Usurer stew'd in his marrow,
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With him a Lawyers head and green sawce,
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All which his belly took like a barrel
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As though till then he had never seen sawce.
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With a hey, etc.
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Then carbonado'd and cookt with pains
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Was brought up a Cloven Serjeants face,
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The sawce was made of a Yeamans brains
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That had been beaten out with his Mace.
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With a hey, etc.
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Two roasted Sheriffs came whole to the board,
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The feast had nothing been without them,
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Both living and dead were foxed and fur'd
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And their chains like sassages hung about them.
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With a hey, etc.
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THe next dish was the Mayor of the town
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With a pudding of maintenance put in his belly
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Like a Goose in her feathers in his gown,
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With a couple of Hinch-boyes boyl'd to a jelly.
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With a hey, etc.
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Next came the overworn Justice of Peace,
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With Clerks like gizzards stuck under each arm
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And warrants like Sippits lay in his own grease
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Set over a Chaffing-dish to be kept warm.
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With a hey, etc.
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A London Cuckold came hot from the spit
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And when the Carver had broken him open,
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The Divel chopt his head off at a bit
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But the horns had almost like to choak him.
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With a hey, etc.
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A fair large Pasty of a Midwife hot,
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And for cold bak'd meat in this story,
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A reverend painted Lady was brought
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Long Coffind in crust til now she's grown hoary
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With a hey, etc.
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The loins of a Letcher then was roasted
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With a plumb Harlots head and Garlick
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With a Panders Peti-toes that had boasted
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Himself for a Captain that never was warlick.
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With a hey, etc.
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Then boiled and stuck upon a prick
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The Gizzard was brought of a holy sister,
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That bit made the Divel almost so sick
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That the Doctor did think he had need of a glitter
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With a hey, etc.
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The Jowl of a Taylor served for a Fish,
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A Constable sowced pissed Vinegar by
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Two Aldermen Lobsters laid in a dish
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A deputy Tart and a Church-warden Pye.
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With a hey, etc.
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All which devoured, then for a close
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He did for a draught of Derby call,
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He heaved the vessel up to his nose
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And never left till he had drank up all.
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With a hey, etc.
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Then from the table he gave a start
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Where banquet and wine was not to seek
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All which he blew away with a fart
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From whence it is cal'd the Divels [Arse in the Peak.]
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With a hey, etc.
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