I'm greedy by nature, and often in vain 
Have lingered too long o'er the succulent hare, 
Accepting the jelly, ignoring the pain, 
Intent on receiving far more than my share. 
I worship the plover's egg, tasty and rare, 
And idolize fanciful French fricasses; 
But what, darling dainties, with you can compare, 
Soused salmon and lamb and young ducks and green peas? 

I ask for real turtle, again and again-- 
Observe the Lord Mayor's John Thomases stare!
For kitchen-recitals to Susan and Jane, 
And powdered impertinence, what do I care? 
I sit down to eat, and I vow and declare, 
I'd honour a dish were it made of stewed bees, 
Though loyal to you, should you chance to be there, 
Soused salmon and lamb and young ducks and green peas. 

I cherish a chef, be he Grecian or Dane; 
I even can relish a collop of bear; 
I love ev'ry calf--if it boasts a fine brain-- 
And melt at a pullet, or even a pair. 
Though gold's on the table and stately the fare, 
I greet a grand entree with almost a sneeze 
If you, dearest dainties, are sweet on the air-- 
Soused salmon and lamb and young ducks and green peas. 

L'envoi: 

O Redcoats of England, who struggle and dare, 
Your glory's a morsel no glutton can please; 
My yearning is all for a soft-cushioned chair, 
Soused salmon and lamb and young ducks and green peas.