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THE HAUNCH OF VENISON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: At number one dwelt captain drew
Last Line: "when next you open aesop."
Subject(s): Treason And Traitors; War


AT Number One dwelt Captain Drew,
George Benson dwelt at Number Two,
(The street we'll not now mention:)
The latter stunned the King's Bench bar,
The former being lamed in war,
Sang small upon a pension.

Tom Blewit knew them both: than he
None deeper in the mystery
Of culinary knowledge;
From turtle soup to Stilton cheese,
Apt student, taking his degrees
In Mrs. Rundell's college.

Benson to dine invited Tom:
Proud of an invitation from
A host who "spread" so nicely,
Tom answered, ere the ink was dry,
"Extremely happy -- come on Fri-
Day next, at six precisely."

Blewit, with expectation fraught,
Drove up at six, each savoury thought
Ideal turbot rich in:
But, ere he reached the winning-post,
He saw a haunch of ven'son roast
Down in the next-door kitchen.

"Hey! zounds! what's this? a haunch at Drews?
I must drop in; I can't refuse;
To pass were downright treason:
To cut Ned Benson's not quite staunch;
But the provocative -- a haunch!
Zounds! it's the first this season.

"Ven'son, thou'rt mine! I'll talk no more."
Then, rapping thrice at Benson's door,
"John, I'm in such a hurry;
Do tell your master that my aunt
Is paralytic, quite aslant,
I must be off for Surrey."

Now Tom at next door makes a din:
"Is Captain Drew at home?" -- "Walk in."
"Drew, how d'ye do?" -- "What! Blewit!"
"Yes, I -- you've asked me, many a day,
To drop in, in a quiet way,
So now I'm come to do it."

"I'm very glad you have," said Drew,
"I've nothing but an Irish stew" --
Quoth Tom, (aside,) "No matter;
'Twont do -- my stomach's up to that --
'Twill lie by, till the lucid fat
Comes quiv'ring on the platter."

"You see your dinner, Tom," Drew cried.
"No, but I don't though," Tom replied;
"I smoked below." -- "What?" -- "Ven'son --
A haunch." -- "Oh! true, it is not mine;
My neighbour has some friends to dine."
"Your neighbour! who?" -- "George Benson.

"His chimney smoked; the scene to change,
I let him have my kitchen range,
While his was newly polished;
The ven'son you observed below
Went home just half an hour ago;
I guess it's now demolished.

"Tom, why that look of doubtful dread?
Come, help yourself to salt and bread,
Don't sit with hands and knees up;
But dine, for once, off Irish stew,
And read the 'Dog and Shadow' through,
When next you open AEsop."





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