In the midst a form divine,
Appears the fam’d sir-loin;
And soon, with plums and glory crown’d,
Almighty pudding sheds its sweets around.
Heard ye the din of dinner bray?
Knife to fork, and fork to knife;
Unnumber’d heroes, in the glorious strife,
Thro’ fish, flesh, pies, and puddings cut their destin’d way.
III.
See, beneath the mighty blade