Around a groaning table sit the gluttons
Before the bleeding viands stuck with forks,
Already loosening their waistcoat buttons,
With wet mouths when from flagons leap the corks—
Teniers, and Brackenburgh, and Brauwer, shaken
With listening to Jan Steen’s uproarious wit,
Holding their bellies dithering with bacon,
Wiping their chins, watching the hissing spit.
* * * * * * * * *
“Men, women, children, all stuffed full to bursting;