I SING of good eating! There lately befel
A notable feast at a Sydney Hotel!
There was plenty for me, and plenty for you;
But the pride of the Board was an Irish Stew!
Who it was that got up the feast,
Is of many important things the least;
For a feast there was, and that is most true,
And the principal dish was an Irish stew.
There were guests of every rank and station,
Of every possible creed and nation:
Mahometan, Christian, Turk and Jew;
But the only dish was an Irish stew!
An Irish Roman Catholic priest
Got up in his place and blessed the feast,
And then helped himself, as he well could do,
To a trencher-full of the Irish stew.
He dived right into it all in a minute,
And showed there was never a Bible in it.
“For what,” said he, “had the Bible to do
Either inside or outside an Irish stew?”
There was music too, both loud and shrill,
To cheer up those who were eating their fill;
And some, it is said, took mountain-dew
In plentiful draughts with their Irish stew.
Monitor Hall was the principal chaunter;
He sat, like the deil in Tam o’ Shanter,
With a pair of Scotch bagpipes, and sung while he blew
“O there’s no dish at all like an Irish stew!”
For eight long years he had sung like a starling,
“O what a tyrant was General Darling!”
But alas! that good old tune’s replaced with a new,
Since he’s taken to play up “The Irish Stew!”
Meanwhile a poor editor, Richard Roe,
And his equally brainless friend, John Doe,
Stood up on their feet, as they used to do,
And began – “The aforesaid Irish stew – “
But their eloquence suffered a sad eclipse:
For the Judges speedily sealed their lips
And turned them out! So all they could do
Was to beg for some more of the Irish stew.
And other editors too might be seen
With their Tickets of Leave and their shamrocks so green.
They may thank English juries (‘twixt me and you)
For their own tid-bits of the Irish stew.
But many, ’tis said, turned sick to see
So uncommonly little variety;
While Scotch and English parsons too
Said they never would dine on Irish stew.
Then the head of the Normal Institution,
A hero of tact and elocution,
Got up on a stool (as he needed to do),
To be seen when extolling the Irish stew:
“There are some,” he said, “who turn up their nose
At the richest and daintiest dish that goes;
But show me the puny sectarian who
Has a stomach that nauseates Irish stew!
“For upon my honour this excellent dish
Has the nature of herb, fowl, flesh and fish.
It suits all palates. Pray, try it, sir, do;
And you’ll soon ask for more of the Irish stew.
“There’s English, French, Latin and Mathematics,
Jurisprudence and A
(John Dunmore Lang)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Nature Poems, Friendship Poems, Christianity Poems, Pride Poems, Romantic Love Poems, Heroism Poems, Tyranny & Despotism Poems, English Poems, Mathematics PoemsBased on Keywords: aforesaid, notable, palates, elocution, shamrocks, shanter, juries, sectarian, jurisprudence, extolling, nauseates