I give thee all my kitchen lore,
Though poor the offering be;
I'll tell thee how 'tis cooked, before
You come to dine with me.
The duck is truss'd from head to heels,
Then stew'd with butter well,
And streaky bacon, which reveals
A most delicious smell.
When duck and bacon, in a mass,
You in a stewpan lay,
A spoon around the vessel pass,
And gently stir away;
A tablespoonful of flour bring,
A quart of water plain,
Then in it twenty onions fling,
And gently stir again.
A bunch of parsley, and a leaf
Of ever verdant bay,
Two cloves,--I make my language brief,--
Then add your peas you may;
And let it simmer till it sings
In a delicious strain;
Then take your duck, nor let the strings
For trussing it remain.
The parsley fail not to remove,
Also the leaf of bay;
Dish up your duck,--the sauce improve
In the accustom'd way,
With pepper, salt, and other things
I need not here explain;
And if the dish contentment brings,
You'll dine with me again.