Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1862-07-01

EAlaQN BILL " AAhAs-A AAe AVAAV"lAt 7
lines weru composed by james A Banks, a
prisoner Of war at Richmond. They were
copied and handed to US by NJ. SEQ. W Wise,
q member Of the Grayi, and who was con-
fnod in different prisons Of the South for
nearly year, he having returned to this
city last week:
BILL OF FARE AT THE RICHMOND PRISON
Hail modern cities on the art Of eating,
A prison gastronome gives you his greeting,
Hoping that the subject he proposes
May not offend your honorable noses,
But rather that he NAV excite tho pity
Of those who have not lived in Richmond city,
Sc that you may announce % all the people
By placards posted on the State House steeple,
Aud though the public erier warn AL mankind
TO leave all former eooking-books behind;
BraWl in the public ear until the deaf
Shall prove the skill Of Rehmend's famous chief
50 for your good sense and Judgment rare,
he now brings forth the prison bill Of fare.
First hayngas the sink performed ahlution,
The problem, whats for breakfast" needs
solution,
When 10 upon his sapient head
A "colored gemman brings n load Of bread.
Not vulgar loaves rs in the shop you'll find,
Such large affairs would suit tho common mind,
But our friends take care our better taste 90
meet,
And send US loaves that are unique and neat
And loving eyes upon the batch we fiN,
And eagerly devour our ounces six.
10 season Il our friends sometimes allow
Three ounces Of some lately butchered COW
How late deponent sayeth not, but then the
smell
Would indicate it rather hard 10 tell;
But then it would be wrong 20 heed such stuff
Rub itwith salt, it then goes well enough,
some nicer appetites the flavor might spoil
Even We hold our nosos as Il twere castor oil.
But vet we eat the " beef" and find no fault
NIar dnfrhf ahn rnnfnnnu nf nfnkrraoas1 ~ =.
IL sweetens and removes doubtful SAVIOR,
Then It's so scarce, TO get il Is afavor.
Once We had coffee but now We fear
Our friends have found the article too dear,
So we're compelled TO eat our breakfast dry,
For cen old JEFF himself drinks coffee made Of
ryei
No doubt we Yankees may the secret steal,
And make fine Java out of bad cornmeal.
such is the morning meal, Now what's for
dinnerf"
Asks some insatiate half-starved sinner,
As if the bounty Of our Christian friends
Was not enough to answer natures ends
The fellows crave tall problem number two
Claims the attention Of the hungry crew,
With busy hands at length their pates they
scratch,
As if in their brains a dinner they would hatch
Others again pass of the weary hours
BY quiet game Of eribbage or all fOurs.
The sick lie on the floor as mute as mice
Poor fellows, thankful for little rice,
While lame and lazy, seeming i'll at ease
Are laying plans, their hunger TO appease.
Stripped 20 the bun our sportsmen hunt for YER
min,
With which our hunks and clothing both are
with much success, they beat all round the
bush,
Nor e'er before so brisk trade did push.
With " shinplasters' - Of small denominations
Some add trife to their seanty rations,
And eat at noon, without a guilty blush,
An ounce or two Of meal made into mush
Another brings to light his little store
bone, that has been picked too well before;
This through, our pants inform US we grow thin
The more We have of this, our Richmond din
ner.
The dainty items Of our prison supper.
AT hTe o'clock, sometimes at half past FIVE,
A buzzing sound is heard throughout the hive,
The boarders think their supper late,
And beat the " Devils tattoo" on their plate
Some get impatient, and their hunger choke,
In sitting clouds Of vile tobacco smoke
For be itKnown tobacco is a drug,
Among us since we've been in the Richmond jug.
But as the boaTders throng around the door
Our "eolored genmen" enters as before,
With graceful dignity his load removes
While some thin wretch his tardiness reproves,
Meanwhile another Of his sable race
Whose comic grin o'eTspreads his ebon face
Upon his neighbor's heels has followed close,
And in his hands Q somewhat doubtful dose
But something floating meets the boarders' view
It must be, yes, it is an Irish stew
Just then the eyes of hungry sinners qleam
Expanded nostrils scent the fragrant Steam,
The grinning dari1es on their fingers blow,
Their scalded hands to prison bOarders show,
Their steaming buckets set upon the floor,
Then take their leave, and quickly slam the door
Now anxious TO inspect the sayOry mess
The hungry boarders round the buckets press,
But one and all, their open mouths soon droop,
The Irish stew is regulation soupi
Their happiness is changed to speechless grief
It is the water in which was boiled our beef
OF this each prisoner gets standard gill,
llliIlriI kill,
To test its strength on us is their intention,
But its ingredients we dare not mention.
We crumble in our ounces six Of bread,
Each takes his physic, then goes off to bed.
Although we cannot boasta second course,
We call for more until our throats are hOarse,
We cram our stOmachs with suspicious beef,
('IWould faint the fingers Of a common thief)
Our hungry eyes most starting from their sockets,
Proclaim US starving men with empty pockets.
Assembled around secessions tainted tub,
Hyena like, each man devours the grub,
Nor can they get it in their hands too soon,
But grasp it, using neither fork nor spoon.
This Ger, we chat and crack our evening Joke,
And then our labors for the dayW end IN smoke