No. 53 The Lament of the Roast Swan
Time was my wings were my delight,
Time was I made a lovely sight;
’Twas when I was a swan snow-white.
Woe’s me! I vow,
Black am I now,
Burned up, back, beak, and brow!
The baster turns me on the spit,
The fire I’ve felt the force of it,
The carver carves me bit by bit.
I’d rather in the water float
Under the bare heavens like a boat,
Than have this pepper down my throat.
Whiter I was than wool or snow,
Fairer than any bird I know;
Now am I blacker than a crow.
Now in the gravy-dish I lie,
I cannot swim, I cannot fly,
Nothing but gnashing teeth I spy.
Woe’s me! I vow, &c.
The next is The Last Will of the Dying Ass. There is not much to be said for the wit of this piece.