I want every peasant to have a chicken in his pot on Sundays.
[Fr., Je veux que le dimanche read more

I want every peasant to have a chicken in his pot on Sundays.
[Fr., Je veux que le dimanche chaque paysan ait sa poule au pot.]

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not read more

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not quail,
But sets up his rest and makes up his feast,
With a crust of brown bread and a pot of good ale.

The consummate pleasure (in eating) is not in the costly flavour,
but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce read more

The consummate pleasure (in eating) is not in the costly flavour,
but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce for sweating?

O hour, of all hours, the most blesse'd upon earth,
The bless'd hour of our dinners!

O hour, of all hours, the most blesse'd upon earth,
The bless'd hour of our dinners!

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet
Quaff immortality and joy.

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet
Quaff immortality and joy.

And the whole congregation of the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness:
And read more

And the whole congregation of the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness:
And the children of Israel said unto them, Would to God we had
died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by
the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full; for ye
have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole
assembly with hunger.

When I demanded of my friend what viands he preferred,
He quoth, "A large cold bottle, and a small read more

When I demanded of my friend what viands he preferred,
He quoth, "A large cold bottle, and a small hot bird!"

A warmed-up dinner was never worth much.
[Fr., Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien.]

A warmed-up dinner was never worth much.
[Fr., Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien.]

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, read more

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired, swoon, I think,
To show myself a glass.