Classic Poem

Never didst thou with the same Dish repeated cloy,
Tho every Dish, well-cook'd by thee,
Contain'd a plentiful variety,
To all, that could sound relishing palats be:
Each Regale with new Delicacies did invite,
Courted the tast, and rais'd the appetite:
Whate're fresh dainty Fops in season were,
To garnish and set out thy bill of fare
(Those never found to fail throwout the year,
For seldom that ill-natur'd Planet rules,
That plagues a Poet with a dearth of Fools)
What thy strict observation e're survey'd,
From the fine luscious Spark of high and courtly breed,
Down to the dull insipid Cit,
Made thy pleas'd Audience entertainment fit,
Serv'd up with all the grateful poignancies of Wit.