Let others in their praise advance
The monstrous branches sent from France;
You ope your mouth as 'twere a door,
And bite off half an inch, not more;
And then perforce you lay aside
A tasteless foot of wasted pride.
Besides, you find that what you praise,
Is mostly sauce—a Hollandaise.
The succulent, the English kind,
You pick it up and eat it blind;