In cosy recesses of kitchens,
Secure from the shrieking of slums;
Where cook’s so uncommon bewitching,
And the infinite tea kettle hums.
Yet art thou misled and mistaken,
Though served with celestial cheer,
Though feasted on liver and bacon,
And beauty and beer.
Oh, leisurely, helmeted Bobby!
Hast never with jealousy shook;