Let luxury’s imbecile train,
Of appetites fastidious,
Each sauced provocative obtain,
The draught or viand perfidious;
But oh! give me that simple food,
So dear to the sons of Cymru,
With health, with nourishment imbued,
The sweet new milk and flummery.
Let pudding-headed English folks
With boast of roast beef fag us;
Let Scottish Burns crack rural jokes,
And vaunt kail-brose and haggis;
But Cymru’s sons! of mount and plain,
From Brecknock to Montgomery,
Let us the honest praise maintain,
Of sweet new milk and flummery.
On sultry days when appetites
Wane dull, and low, and queasy,
When loathing stomachs nought delights,
To gulp thee flumm’ry! ’s easy:
Dear oaten jelly, pride of Wales!
Rude child of the vales of Cymru;
On thee the ruddy swain regales,
And blesses milk and flummery.
’Tis sweet to stroll on Cambrian heights,
O’erlooking vales and rivers,
Where bird-song sweet, with breeze unites,
Each, sunshine rapture givers!
To crown their gust the light repast—
So cool—can never come awry,
Oh sweet! to break the mid-day fast
On sweet new milk and flummery.