In researching “parlour poetry” for our book group Christmas gathering, I came across Josephine Pollard (USA, 1834-92) and in particular her “Vagrant Verses” (1886). Having just returned from a weekend patisserie course where the tutor added generous pinches of salt to every recipe (which I try to avoid), I rather liked “What Ailed the Pudding?” about family Dobbs’ cook Sally, whose usual fault was to forget the salt, so everyone dropped in a pinch or two when no one else was looking, the consequence, of course being…
Said Mrs. Dobbs, in a voice not sweet:
“Why, it isn’t fit for the pigs to eat!”
And I doubt if an artist would e’er be able
To depict their looks as they left the table.
Said Sally: “I thought it would be so nice!
But I must have salted that pudding twice!”
And none of the family mentioned that they
Had a hand in spoiling the dinner that day.
Christmas Greetings, and may your pudding be perfectly seasoned!
Said Mrs. Dobbs, in a voice not sweet:
“Why, it isn’t fit for the pigs to eat!”
And I doubt if an artist would e’er be able
To depict their looks as they left the table.
Said Sally: “I thought it would be so nice!
But I must have salted that pudding twice!”
And none of the family mentioned that they
Had a hand in spoiling the dinner that day.
Christmas Greetings, and may your pudding be perfectly seasoned!
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