A glass of Creamy Milk just from the Cow,
Or Buttermilk, drawn from the Goat, I trow,
And thou across the Festal Board from Me,
A Six-Room Flat were Paradise enow!
Some for a Patent Bread that will not Crumb,
And nary Bite of Cereal for Some—
Ah, take the Coffee! Let all else go by
Nor heed the Thick White Fur upon the Tongue.
Look to the Human Wrecks about us: lo,
About their Indigestion how they Blow,
And lay the Blame on Coffee, crystal Clear,
Or say the Crisp Hot Muffin is their Foe!
And those who chew and chew upon the Grain,
Have got so used to Chewing, they are Fain
To Dwell upon their Health Food in their Talk
And presently their Neighbors go Insane.
FOOT-NOTES
1. The author began with the intention of adapting the entire Rubaiyat to kitchen purposes, but thought better of it just in time to head off the Lyric Muse, who was coming at full gallop, with her trunk.
2. Those who do not like The Kitchen Rubaiyat will doubtless be glad there is no more of it.
3. Those who do like it can begin at the beginning and read it again. The rest of it would be about like this installment, anyway.
P. S. If the demand is great enough, the rest of it may appear in another book.
P. S. 2. The publisher of this book has an unalterable prejudice against printing poetry, but he allowed The Kitchen Rubaiyat to slip by without question.