CHRISTMAS FARE.
A Merry Mug! though he could not be uglier, he
Has nought about him that betokens Jugg-ler-y.
A Goose, even tailors have, who cut it fat,
And use the goose itself to get a flat;
And when the cloth is spread, which they have stored,
They lodge it there, a portion of their board.
Snap Dragon—Fiery face-ias.
Chine's Christmas fare, cries Pat, but, by my sowl,
Sure Turkey isn't, for it's Christmas fowl.
Eat your pudding hot; but—
Don't burn their mouths,
The little dears while treating,
Though still the proof
Of pudding's in the heating.
A round game at Christmas.