ANTISTROPHE.
Forth, from their styes, the bristly victims lead;
A score of HOGS, flat on their backs, shall bleed.
Mind they be such on which good Gods might feast!
And that
In lily fat
They cut six inches on the ribs, at least!
DUET—with Marrow-bones and Cleavers.
Butcher and Cook begin!
We’ll have a royal greasy chin!
Tit bits so nice and rare—
Prepare! prepare!
Let none abstain,
Refrain!
I’ll give ’em pork in plenty—cut, and come again!