OH! FOR A FEED!

Oh! for a feed! a motley feed! a corporation feast

Of hot and cold, of roast and boiled, of fishes, bird, and beast;

                        From cod and snipe

                        To leathery tripe,

            Two inches thick at least.

Oh! for a feed! an awful feed! or else a mighty lunch,

With Niagara cataracts of Irish whiskey punch,

                        Port crusty, red,

                        And crackling bread,

            Ad libitum, to crunch.

Oh! for a feed! a pious feed! with reverend lords to dine

On venison pies of depth profound, and frozen Spanish wine;

                        With turtle soups,

                        And whiskered troops

            Of “natives” in their brine.

Oh! for a feed! a bribing feed, at an election spread,

Where much is said that's never done, and none that's never said,

                        And biped swine

                        To “nine times nine”

            Invert their heels and head.

Oh! for a feed! precarious feed, at boating or picnic,

Where “nobody gets nuthink,” and everybody's sick;

                        And sudden squalls

                        Seize hats and shawls,

            Just borrowed, or on tick.

Oh! for a feed! by hook or crook, from any good soul at all.

In rural cot, or pleasure yacht, or festive civic hall,

                        Or in poteen still,

                        On a Munster hill,

            To stagger, and then to fall.