William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863 / India)
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 here 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.
Poet Other Poems
- A Credo
- A Credo (after the German)
- A Doe In The City
- A Tragic Story
- A Woeful New Ballad Of The Protestant Co...
- Abd-El-Kader At Toulon Or, The Caged Haw...
- Ad Ministram
- Ah, Bleak And Barren Was The Moor
- At the Church-Gate
- Atra Cura
- Come To The Greenwood Tree
- Commanders Of The Faithful
- Damages, Two Hundred Pounds
- Dear Jack
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.