The Republican journal., 1898-04-07
PRISON BILL OF FARE,

Hail modern writer's on the art of eating
A prison gastronomic gives you his greeting
Requesting that the subject be proposes
MAY not offend your honorable noses.
Bnt rather that he may excite your pity.
For those who have dined in Richmond city,
So that YOU may announce to all the people,
By placards posted the State House
steeple,
And by the public crier tell the blind,
To leave all former cooking books behind.
Carol in the public ear 80 that the deaf
Shall know the skill of Richmond's famous
chef.
Those triumps in the noble art rank higher
Than those won by any distinguished sojer,
Therefore to your good sense a Judgment
We now commence the prison bill of fare.
First at the risk performed ablution,
The problem, what's for breakfast, needs
solution.
Like others not in Euclid, oft is found
To tax researches that are most profound.
AT length tbs solved, and ON the serpents
head
The coored 'gemman" brings a loaf of
bread.
Not vulgar loaves as in the shops you'll find,
such large affairs may suit the common
Our friends take care our better taste to
meet,
So send us loaves that are unique and neat.
Our loving eyes upon the batch we ii
And quietly eat our rations ounces SIX.
So Justly are appetltes refined,
These loayes are not the largest OF their KIND.
To reason it withal, our friend allow
Three ounces of lately butchered COW,
How late deponent saith not, but the smell
W ould indicate it rather hard to tell.
The doubt. however. is not worth discussing,
Such things make unnecessary fnssing,
Besides it would be wrong to keep such
stuff.
Rub it with salt, it then goes well enough.
Some appetitts the flavor ere might spot,
" e hold our noses il to castor Oil.
Thus vou perceive all cooks have been at
fault,
To doubt the potency of Richmond salt
1t sweettns and removes a doubtful flavor.
lis scarce though. to get IL Is d favor,
W t onre indeed had coffee, but we fear
Oar friends have found the article too dear.
So We prefer to eat our breakfast dry,
For even they use coffee made from rye,
No doubt we Yankees would the secret steal
And make prime Java from Indian meal.
AT all their little fai!ngs We but wink,
Such is the morning neal now what's for
DINNER.
Asks some insatiate, half fanished sinner,
As if the bounty OF onr Christian friends
Was not enough to answer natures ends,
The fellow Graves till problem number two
Calls the attention of hungry crew,
" no in d corner squat in deep reflection,
Like cabinet ministers on coast protection.
With busy hands at length their pates they
scratch,
A. if their brains a dinner there could hatch,
'IwOuld seem they had with one consent re-
solved
To scratch until the problem they had
solved
Others again beguiled the weary hour,
by quiet game of bubbage on all tours
Wrapt in a cloud OF smoke from morn TIL
moon,
They don't expect a dinner from the moon.
The sick lie on the floor as meek as nice,
Poor devils, thankful for little rice,
While lame and lazy seem i'll at ease,
On laying plans their appetiUes TO appease.
Enthusiastic sportsnlen i'll trlce,
Stripped to the buff and hunt their clothes
for
With such success, they seldom beat the
bush.
Now, in their lines, a thriving trade they
push,
Some fellows that are lucky having money,
We Yankees think the medium rather fun
ny,
With shinplasters of small denomination,
Continue to add little to their ration,
And eat at noon without a guilty blush,
An ounce or two of meal made into muSh.
Another brings to view his little store,
A bone that he had picked too well before.
This, though our pants inform us we grow
thinner,
Makes the sum total of our prison dinner.