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." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNWELCOME by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 6. A WIFE WAITS by THOMAS HARDY SONNETS ON PICTURES: MARY MAGDALEN AT THE DOOR OF SIMON THE PHARISEE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM by JOANNA BAILLIE ON THE BACKWARDNESS OF THE SPRING 1771 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE EVERLASTING GOSPEL (VERSION 2) by WILLIAM BLAKE WRITTEN ON RETURNING TO THE P. OF I. ON 10 JANUARY 1827 by EMILY JANE BRONTE |