Classic Poem

In praise of a Bagg-pudding.

Who trusts in fraile mortality shall finde
Himselfe deceiu'd in greatest time of neede,
Since hollownesse is proper to mankinde
That sounds (like emptinesse) but eares to feede:
 A big bag-pudding then I must commend,
 For he is full, and holds out to the end:
 Sildome with men is found so sound a friend.