Classic Poem

To entertain one's friends at lunch —
Singly or in a solid bunch —
This is indeed a daily joy,
A pastime that can never cloy!

The restaurant that you select,
If you would win the world's respect,
Must be some centre of renown,
The most expensive place in town,
Where guests, in admiration lost,
Delight to think how much they cost,
And he is deemed the nicest host
Who manages to spend the most.

My brother Fritz, one summer's day,
Was lunching with his fiancee ,
But must, I think, have lost his wits,
For when he got her to the Ritz
He ordered Irish stew for two
(A thing no gentleman would do),
And then, instead of quails or snipe,
A mayonnaise of tepid tripe,
And finished up this ghastly meal
With vol-au-vent of jellied eel!

You can imagine what ensued —
With what disgust poor Mabel viewed
The offal heaped upon her plate,
And how her love was turned to hate!

The lovelight faded from her eyes,
As sunshine pales in wintry skies;
The tears she was too proud to wipe
Went trickling down into the tripe;
The scorn that she could not conceal
Was mirrored in each jellied eel!
Passion lay dead; Romance took wing;
She gave her lover back his ring!

To-day, with Mabel at the Ritz
Some more fastidious lover sits,
While at some restaurant unknown,
Fritz eats pigs' trotters, all alone.