So well I made the oyster sauce.
I had you stewed and featly fried,
And dipped in batter—think of that;
And, as a pleasant change, I've tried
You, skewered in rows, with bacon-fat.
"Where art thou, ALICE?" cried the bard.
"Where art thou, Oyster?" I exclaim.
It really is extremely hard,
To know thee nothing but a name.
For this is surely torment worse