Very sick and tired I am
Of stewed prunes, and apples dried,
And this our mutton that once was lamb!

I will make no grand salaam
For the stale cakes the gods provide!
Very sick and tired I am!

My indignant diaphragm
Would cover something fresh, untried, —
Not this mutton that once was lamb!

How every verse and epigram
Of hope the lagging years deride!
Very sick and tired I am!

Must I always then be calm,
And talk as one quite satisfied
With this our mutton that once was lamb?

Frankly, I don't give a dam
For taste of things too long denied!
Very sick and tired I am
Of this our mutton that once was lamb!