Classic Poem

Take a knuckle of veal;
You may buy it, or steal,
In a few preces cut it:
In a stewing-pan put it,
Salt, pepper, and mace
Must season this knuckle;
Then what's join'd to a place
With other herbs muckle;
That, which killed king Will:
And what never stands still.
Some sprigs of that bed
Where children are bred,
Which much you will mend, if
Both spinnage and endive,
And lettuce, and beet,
With marygold meet.
Put no water at all;
For it maketh things small.
Which, lest it should happen,
A close cover clap on.
Put this pot of Wood 's mettle
In a hot boiling kettle,
And there let it be
(Mark the doctrine I teach)
About — let me see, —
Thrice as long as you preach:
So skimming the fat off,
Say grace with your hat off.
O, then! with what rapture
Will it fill dean and chapter!