I heard my mother, just to-day, asking dear old dad,
To buy her a nice chafing-dish and make her very glad;
Though he declared its cooking was a waste of alcohol,
Causing indigestion and perhaps a doctor's call.
I inner saw a chafing-dish and so I longed to know
How it looked and what 'twas for and so and so and so;
But mother would not answer and daddy went away,
So I sought the kitchen, where Bridget holds her sway,
And asked her if she ever saw, since she began to cook,
A chafing-dish on pantry shelf or pictured in a book?