This “great day in the calendar” of the city, is the subject of the following whimsical adaptation.
Now countless turbots and unnumbered soles
Fill the wide kitchens of each livery hall:
From pot to spit, to kettle, stew, and pan,
The busy hum of greasy scullions sounds,
That the fixed beadles do almost perceive
The secret dainties of each other’s watch:
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each table sees the other’s bill of fare:
Cook threatens cook in high and saucy vaunt
Of rare and newmade dishes; confectioners,
Both pastrycooks and fruiterers in league,
With candied art their rivets closing up,
Give pleasing notice of a rich dessert.
In the subjoined humorous account of a former civic procession and festival, there are some features which do not belong to the present celebrations.
Lord Mayor’s Day, 1773.
To describe the adventures and incidents of this important day in the city annals, it is very necessary to revert to the preceding evening. It is not now as it was formerly—
“That sober citizens get drunk by nine.”
Had Pope lived in the auspicious reign of George III., he would have indulged us at least two hours, and found a rhyme for eleven.
On the evening of the 8th of November, the stands of several livery companies clogged the passage of Cheapside and the adjacent streets. The night was passed in erecting the temporary sheds, sacred to city mirth, ruby gills, and round paunches. The earliest dawn of the morning witnessed the industry of the scavengers; and the broom-maker was, for once, the first patriot in the city.
This service done, repair we to Guildhall.