222
SWIFT’S POEMS
ASPARAGUS.
RIPE 'sparagrass,
Fit for lad or lass,
To make their water pass:
O, 'tis pretty picking
With a tender chicken!
ONIONS.
| COME, follow me by the smell, | |
| Here are delicate onions to sell, | |
| I promise to use you well. |
They make the blood warmer;
You'll feed like a farmer:
For this is every cook's opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion;
But, lest your kissing should be spoil'd,
Your onions must be thoroughly boil'd:
Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,
The secret will never be known;
She cannot discover
The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.
OYSTERS.
CHARMING oysters I cry
My masters, come buy,
So plump and so fresh,
So sweet is their flesh,
No
