Through Rouen when our friends had been,
And all its famous places seen,
They travelled on, old Caen to see,
Another town in Normandy.
Arrived at Caen, the travellers here
Before the chief Hotel appear,
Miss Earle, Rose, Bertie you descry--
The rest are coming by-and-by.
_Monsieur le Maitre_, with scrape and bow,
Stands ready to receive them now,
And Madame with her blandest air,
And their alert _Commissionaire_.
Next up the staircase see them go,
With _femme de chambre_ the way to show.
Father and Dennis, standing there,
Are asking for the bill of fare.
_Monsieur le Maitre_, who rubs his hands
And says, "What are _Monsieur's_ commands?"
With scrape and bow, again you see--
The most polite of men is he.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Now that dinner is ordered, we'll just take a peep
At the cooks in the kitchen--just see! what a heap
Of plates are provided, and copper pans too;--
They'll soon make a dinner for me and for you.
French cookery's famous for flavouring rare,
But of _garlic_ I think they've enough and to spare.
If we ask how their wonderful dishes are made,
I'm afraid they won't tell us the tricks of the trade.
Do they make them, I wonder, of frogs and of snails?
Or are these, after all, only travellers' tales?
The names are all down on the "Menu," no doubt,
But the worst of it is that we can't make them out.