Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The One-legged Goose
The One-Legged Goose.
A wealthy gentleman in Hertfordshire, Not troubled with an overplus of brains,Like many a worthy country squire, Whose craniums give them very little pains,Lived quietly upon his own estate. He was a bachelor, but whether thatArgues in favour of his understanding, Or mitigates against it, is a questionThat I would wish to have no hand in, But leave it to your cool digestion. He ne'er perplexed his pate With the affairs of state, But led a calm, domesticated life, Far from the noise of town and party strife,He loved to smoke his pipe with jovial souls,Prided himself upon his skill at bowls,At which he left his neighbours in the lurch;On Sundays, too, he always went to church
(As should each penitential sinner),Took, during sermon-time, his usual snore,And gave his sixpence at the door, And then walked comfortably home to dinner.
As there are many, I daresay, Who into such affairs have never looked,I think I'd better mention, by the way, That dinners ere they're eaten, should be cooked!At least our squire's were so before he took them.Now, as I shall have work enoughFor this most gracious queen of kitchenstuff,It may not be amiss to tell you that (Of lusty beauty quite a masterpiece)This modern maid of Fat Surpassed the famous dames of Greece.Of course, then, she had lovers plenty—Ay, that she had, sir, nearly twenty!But none she did so doat uponAs our squire's lusty gardener, John.It chanced one year, as almanacs can tell,St. Michael's Day on Sunday fell;The squire, the night before, as was his use,Gave Peggy orders to procure a goose;Then went to church next morning cheerfullyAnd ordered dinner to be done by three.'Twas half-past-two—the cloth was laid, -Peggy the apple-sauce had made, The bird was done, and she for master wishing;When, lo! attracted by the luscious gale,And somewhat elevated with strong ale, John popped into the kitchen."What, cookie, got a goose! well, come, that's nice,Faith, cookie, I should like to have a slice;And apple-sauce, too! there's a darling Peg,Do take a knife and cut me off a leg.""Cut off a leg? that would be pretty fun;What! serve it up to squire with only one?""Aye, to be sure; why, master durstn't kill you;I'll cut it off." "Adone! adone, now! will you?"
What arguments he used I cannot say;But love—whose sceptre's all-commanding swayCookmaids, as well as countesses, obey—Ordained it so, that, spite of all her reasoning,John stole the leg, with lots of sauce and seasoning. Though Peg, poor girl, was rather vexed At this unlooked-for sad disaster,She was not quite so much perplexedAs you may think: she had been used to gullThe squire, and knew the thickness of his skull;And, consequently, to this conclusion fell—They who could do a goose so well, Would not be troubled much to do her master.
Home came the squire, to the moment true, And rang for dinner in a hurry;She browned the mutilated side anew, And put it on the table in a flurry.Soon as it met his eye, the squireExclaimed with wonderment and ire,"Why, what do you call this, Peg?Where, where, girl! where is the other leg?"Peg curtsied and replied, in modest tone,"An't please you, sir, it never had but one!""Only one leg! Where did you buy it, pray?""At Parmer Grain's, sir, across the way;And if to-night, sir, you will go with me,I'll pledge my life that you shall seeA number of the farmer's geese,Which, like this bird, have only one a-piece."
"Well, prove it, and that alters quite the case;But if you don't, mind, you shall lose your place."He ate his dinner, and began to doubt it;And grumbled most excessively about it;The place was brown, like all the rest, he saw;"Confound it; she surely never ate it raw!"Evening arrives, Peg puts her bonnet on,And with her master to the farm is gone;With expectation big, they softly creepWhere Farmer Grain's geese are fast asleep. Now to your recollection I would bring,That when these pretty creatures go to roost They draw up one leg close beneath their wing,And stand upon the other like a post."There, sir," cries Peg, "now pray cease your pother;There, sir, there's one; and there, sir, is another!""Pooh, nonsense, stuff!" exclaims the squire, "now look ye—Sh, sh—there, now, they've got on two legs, cookee.""Aye, sir," cried Peg, "had you said that at homeNoi- you nor I had e'er had cause to roam!But recollect, sir, ere you think I'm beaten,You didn't say sh, sh, to the one you've eaten."