A Bill of Fare: For, A Saturday nights Supper, A Sunday morning Breakfast, and A Monday Dinner, Described in a pleasant new merry Ditie. To the tune of Cook Laurel, or, Michaelmas Term.  
 


I'll tell you a jest, which you'll hardly believe:  
No matter for that, you shall hear't right or wrong,  
A hungry appetite may perhaps grieve,  
To hear such a Banquet set forth in a Song,  
He rather would have it then hear on't hée'l say,  
But I cannot promise him such a fair sight;  
All that I can do, is with words to display,  
What we had to Supper on Saturday night.   

Inprimis, four Fancies, two boiled, and two roast,  
A large dish of Enoimions (good for one's drink)  
Sir Pelican Chickens as hot as a toast,  
And six Birds of Paradise, brave meat I think,  
A couple of Phoenix, a Cock and a Hen,  
That late from Arabia had tan● their flight.  
I think such a Banquet was ne'er made for men,  
As we had to Supper on Saturday night.   

Two pair of Elephants Pettitoes boiled,  
A green Dragon Spitchcock (an excellent dish)  
One mess by the Cook was like to be spoiled,  
And yet by good hap 'twas to every one's wish:  
It was a Rhinoceros boiled in Alicant,  
To all who did taste it, gave great delight:  
judge whether we have not occasion to vaunt  
Of this our rare Supper on Saturday night.   

A Calf's head was roast with a pudding i'th' belly,  
(Of which all the women did heartily feed)  
A dish of Irish Hearts horns boiled to a jelly,  
(Which most men esteemed as a good dish indeed)  
I had almost forgotten to name a sowced Owl,  
Brought up to the Master o'th' Feast as his right,  
He loved it he said above all other Fowl,  
And this was out Supper on Saturday night.   

The next in due course was four golden Horse-shoes,  
Exactly dissolved through a Woodcock's bill,  
Six Chameleons in greensauce (Maids commonly choose)  
This dish every day if they may have their will,  
The chine of a Lion, the haunch of a Bear,  
Well larded with Brimstone and Quicksilver bright:  
judge Gentlemen, was not this excellent cheer,  
That we had to Supper on Saturday night.   

A whole Horse soused after the Russian manner,  
Twelve Pigs of a strange Capadocian Bitch,  
Six dozen of Ostriches roast, (which a Tanner  
Did send out of Asia by an old Witch)  
A Leg of an Eagle carbonadoed (in Snow)  
The Pluck of a Grampoise stewed till it was white,  
And thus in particular I let you know,  
What we had to Supper on Saturday night.   

Then came in an Ell of a jackanapes tail,  
Served in upon Sippits as dainty as may be:  
O that is a dainty, which rather than fail,  
Might well serve to feast an Utopian Lady:  
Twelve Maids were stewed in the shell of a Shrimp,  
And cause it was meat that was held very light,  
They had for th●ir Sauce a salt pickled Pimp,  
And this was our Supper on Saturday night.    

The second part, To the same tune.  

TWo Bears soused pig fashion sent w●ole to the ●●ard,  
And 4 black swans served by 2 in a dish,  
With a Lobster fried in steaks: take my word,  
I know not well whether it was Flesh or Fish,  
Two Cockatrices, and three Baboons boiled,  
Two dry Salamanders, a very strange sight,  
A joale of a Whale sound buttered and oiled,  
And this was our Supper on Saturday night.   

A good dish of Modicums, I know not what,  
In Barbary Uinegar boiled very soft,  
I mused how my Host became so huge fat,  
I find 'tis with eating these Modicums oft:  
A Gross of Canary birds roasted alive,  
That out of the dishes (for sport) took their flight,  
And every one present to catch them did strive:  
This was our rare Supper on Saturday night.   

A shoal of Red-herrings with bulls 'bout their neekes,  
Which made such rare sport that I never saw such,  
They leapt and danced with other fine tricks,  
A man may admire how they could do so much.  
Two Porpoises parboiled in May-dew and Roses,  
That unto the smell yielded so much delight i  
Some (fearing to lose them) laid hold on their noses,  
All this was at Supper on Saturday night.   

Three dozen of Welsh Ambassadors baked,  
Which made such a nois it was heard through the town  
Some hearing the echo their foreheads so ak●t,  
That many a smile was o'ercome with a frown:  
A dish of Bonitoes, or Fish that can fly.  
That out of the Indies came hither by flight,  
To close up our stomaches, a Gridiron Pie  
We had to our Supper on Saturday night.   

But what cometh after must not be forgotten,  
The Fruit and the Cheese as they follow by course,  
A West-Indian Cheese (not a bit of it rotten,  
That's made of no worse than the milk of a Horse)  
A dish of Pineapples, two bushels at least,  
An hundred of Cokernuts for our delight.  
The world may admire at this wonderful Feast,  
Which we had at Supper on Saturday night.   

Six Pump●ans coddled with exquisite Art,  
To pleasure the palate of every one there.  
Then we at the last had a great Cabbage Tart;  
Thus have I exactly described our Cheer:  
What all this amounted to, I cannot tell,  
It cost me just nothing, no faith not a mite,  
The Master o'th' Feast (whom I know very well)  
Did pay for this Supper on Saturday night.   

We rose from our mirth with the 12 a clock Chimes,  
Went every one home as his way did direct;  
And I for my part on the morning betimes,  
Had a Breakfast prepared, which I did not expect:  
My wife, because she was not bidden to Supper,  
(It seems by the story) she bore me a spite:  
The Breakfast she gave me, to you I will utter,  
It passed our Supper on Saturday night.   

Sunday morning Breakfast.  

FIrst had I a dish of Maundering broth,  
So scolding hot that I could not abide it,  
But I like a patient man (though I was loath)  
Must swallow all down, cause my wife did provide it,  
A many small Reasons she put in the same,  
Her Nose yielded Pepper that keenly did bite;  
Thought I here's a Breakfast, I thank my good dame,  
That passes our Supper on Saturday night.   

A great carp Pie, and a dish of sad Po●ts,  
With Crocodile Uinegar, sauce very tart,  
Quoth she thou last night waste among thy sound treats,  
Now fall to thy Breakfast, and comfort thy heart:  
Then had I a Cup full of stout Wormwood Beer,  
It seems that in Physic she has good insight,  
This showed me the difference 'twixt the homely cheer  
And our dainty Supper on Saturday night.    

Monday Dinner.  

ON this sorry Fare all that day I did feed,  
And on Monday morning on purpose to win her,  
I went and got money to furnish her need,  
And now you shall hear what I had to my Dinner:  
A Pie made of Coneys, with Ducks and Pigs eyes,  
With a deal of sweet Honey my taste to delight:  
With sweet Lamb and Chicken my mind to suffice,  
These passed my Supper on Saturday night.   

Another Pie made with a many Sheep's eyes,  
With sweet Sugar Candy that pleased my pallet,  
These several Banquets my Muse did advise,  
And with her assistance I made this mad Ballet.  
There's no man that's wise will my pains reprehend  
For most married men will confess I say right;  
Yet on no occasion this Ditie was penned,  
But to show our rare Supper on Saturday night.     
FINIS.  M. P.  

London, Printed by M.P. for Fr: Grove, near the Saracens head without Newgate.