From his brimstone bed, at break of day,
A-walking the Devil is gone,
To look at his read more

From his brimstone bed, at break of day,
A-walking the Devil is gone,
To look at his little snug farm of the world,
And see how his stock went on.

We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell

We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell

We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
read more

We may live without poetry, music and art;
We may live without conscience, and live without heart;
We may live without friends; we may live without books;
But civilized man cannot live without cooks.
He may live without books,--what is knowledge but grieving?
He may live without hope,--what is hope but deceiving?
He may live without love,--what is passion but pining?
But where is the man that can live without dining?

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food
It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood--
Our read more

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food
It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood--
Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good.
Oh! the roast beef of England.
And Old England's roast beef.

In their palate alone is their reason of existence.
[Lat., In solo vivendi causa palata est.]

In their palate alone is their reason of existence.
[Lat., In solo vivendi causa palata est.]

Whether woodcock or partridge, what does it signify, if the taste
is the same? But the partridge is dearer, read more

Whether woodcock or partridge, what does it signify, if the taste
is the same? But the partridge is dearer, and therefore thought
preferable.

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the read more

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me read more

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow Tree,
A Crust of Bread, and Liberty."

"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."

"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."