(To me it's the same, for though Mabel's thy name,
To me thou art ever my sweet "Mayonnaise.")
White as snow are thy teeth that, like riz à l'Anglaise,
Shine forth between lips red as sauce écrevisse;
And the truffle-like beauty-spot nestles and says,
"Come and kiss next the dimple and taste, dear, of bliss!"
Dinde de Bresse is not plumper nor fairer than thee;
And thy gown and its trimmings thy beauties enhance.
None so sweet in the country of Gruyère and Brie,
Where St. Sauce counts for more than St. Louis of France.