Quam pulchra sunt ova,
Cum alba et nova
In stabulo scite leguntur;
Et à Margery bella,
Quæ festiva puella!
Pinguis lardi cum frustis coquuntur.
Ut belles in prato
Aprico et lato
Sub sole tam læte renident,
Ova tosta, in mensa
Mappa bene extensa,
Nitidissima lance consident.
Oh! 'tis eggs are a treat,
When so white and so sweet
From under the manger they're taken,
And by fair Margery,
Och! 'tis she's full of glee,
They are fried with fat rashers of bacon.
Just like daisies all spread
O'er a broad sunny mead,
In the sunbeams so beauteously shining,
Are fried eggs fair displayed
On a dish, when we've laid
The cloth and are thinking of dining.
[Pg 556]