 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
80
THE KROUT FEAST.—NO. 2.
Again, brother krouts, are we gayly united,
In stuffing and swigging to honor our chief,
Each feeling his services richly requited,
In laughing and quaffing, a stranger to grief.
Then hail to the banquet of reason and pleasure!
The envy of heroes and monarchs no doubt,
For this is a bliss they would prize above measure,
To feast upon cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
In stuffing and swigging to honor our chief,
Each feeling his services richly requited,
In laughing and quaffing, a stranger to grief.
Then hail to the banquet of reason and pleasure!
The envy of heroes and monarchs no doubt,
For this is a bliss they would prize above measure,
To feast upon cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
Oh, think of the prize that is now set before us,
A throne and a sceptre, a crown, and a robe;
Then eat 'till you burst—in a contest so glorious,
No true-hearted krout but would swallow the globe.
The wine sparkles brightly, then quaff as you mingle it,
Replenish your plates, too, as soon as they are out,
With smoke-seasoned goose, and the savory ringlet,
With soft, pulpy cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
A throne and a sceptre, a crown, and a robe;
Then eat 'till you burst—in a contest so glorious,
No true-hearted krout but would swallow the globe.
The wine sparkles brightly, then quaff as you mingle it,
Replenish your plates, too, as soon as they are out,
81
With soft, pulpy cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
Long life to our monarch, whose station exempts him,
From each vulgar drudgery, even to think,
Except to devour sour-krout when it temps him,
Or when the wine sparkles before him, to drink.
Such a king can, of course, do no wrong to the nation,
His ministers answer when radicals flout;
Then brave Knickerbockers, lets strive for the station,
By feasting on cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
From each vulgar drudgery, even to think,
Except to devour sour-krout when it temps him,
Or when the wine sparkles before him, to drink.
Such a king can, of course, do no wrong to the nation,
His ministers answer when radicals flout;
Then brave Knickerbockers, lets strive for the station,
By feasting on cabbage converted to krout;
The round-headed cabbage, the soft pulpy cabbage,
The sweet, wholesome cabbage, converted to krout.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |