Upon Spokes.

Spokes, when he sees a roasted pig, he swears
Nothing he loves on't but the chaps and ears:
But carve to him the fat flanks, and he shall
Rid these, and those, and part by part eat all.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

To The Earl Of Westmoreland.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To God.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon A Scar In A Virgin's Face.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Our Own Sins Unseen.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Upon Hog.

Hog has a place i' the' kitchen, and his share,
The flimsy livers and blue gizzards are.

Robert Herrick

Great Boast Small Roast.

Of flanks and chines of beef doth Gorrell boast
He has at home; but who tastes boil'd or roast?
Look in his brine-tub, and you shall find there
Two stiff blue pigs'-feet and a sow's cleft ear.

Robert Herrick

Upon Skinns. Epig.

Skinns, he dined well to-day: how do you think?
His nails they were his meat, his rheum the drink.

Robert Herrick

Upon Spur.

Spur jingles now, and swears by no mean oaths,
He's double honour'd, since he's got gay clothes:
Most like his suit, and all commend the trim;
And thus they praise the sumpter, but not him:
As to the goddess, people did confer
Worship, and not to th' ass that carried her.

Robert Herrick

Upon Shark. Epig.

Shark, when he goes to any public feast,
Eats to one's thinking, of all there, the least.
What saves the master of the house thereby
When if the servants search, they may descry
In his wide codpiece, dinner being done,
Two napkins cramm'd up, and a silver spoon?

Robert Herrick

The Smell Of The Sacrifice.

The gods require the thighs
Of beeves for sacrifice;
Which roasted, we the steam
Must sacrifice to them,
Who though they do not eat,
Yet love the smell of meat.

Robert Herrick