John Clare - Farm Breakfast lyrics

Maids shout to breakfast in a merry strife And the cat runs to hear the whetted knife And dogs are ever in the way to watch The mouldy crust and falling bone to catch The wooden dishes round in haste are set And round the table all the boys are met All know their own save Hodge who would be first But every one his master leaves the worst On every wooden dish, a humble claim Two rude cut letters mark the owner's name From every nook the smile of plenty calls And rusty flitches decorate the walls Moore's Almanack where wonders never cease All smeared with candle snuff and bacon grease