Persicos Odi

DEAR Lucy, you know what my wish is,--
  I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
  Your silly entrées and made dishes
  Were never intended for us.
  No footman in lace and in ruffles
  Need dangle behind my arm-chair;
  And never mind seeking for truffles,
  Although they be ever so rare.
 
  But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
  I pr'ythee get ready at three:
  Have it smoking, and tender, and juicy,
  And what better meat can there be?
  And when it has feasted the master,
  'Twill amply suffice for the maid;
  Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
  And tipple my ale in the shade.