Page:The art of dress - a poem (IA artofdresspoem00gayj).pdf/42

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When first this Infant-Dish in Fashion came,
Th'Ingredients were but Coarse, and rude the Frame;
As yet unpolish'd in the Modern Arts,
Our Fathers Eat brown Bread instead of Tarts:
Pyes were but indigested Lumps of Dough,
Till Time and just Expence improved 'em so.

King Col (as Ancient British Annals[1] tell)
Renown'd for Fidling, and for Eating well,
Pippins in homely Cakes with Honey stew'd,
Just as he Bak'd, (the Proverb says) he brew'd.


  1. See, the old Ballad of King Col.

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