One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's.

One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's.

A loaf of bread, the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
read more

A loaf of bread, the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters, dear,
We can begin to feed!

For, behold, the Lord, the Lord of hosts, doth take away from
Jerusalem and from Judah the stay and read more

For, behold, the Lord, the Lord of hosts, doth take away from
Jerusalem and from Judah the stay and the staff, the whole stay
of bread, and the whole stay of water.

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
read more

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
I've ate and can't digest.

Their best and most wholesome feeding is upon one dish and no
more and the same plaine and simple: read more

Their best and most wholesome feeding is upon one dish and no
more and the same plaine and simple: for surely this hudling of
many meats one upon another of divers tastes is pestiferous. But
sundrie sauces are more dangerous than that.

Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the read more

Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the old rat
and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool;
who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished and
imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to
his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear,
But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as read more

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!

Gluttony kills more then the sword.
[Gluttony kills more than the sword.]

Gluttony kills more then the sword.
[Gluttony kills more than the sword.]

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

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