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Show FORBIDDEN FARE. (The whole Thames Fishery is under suspicion. Daily Chronicle.) The too bacterial oyster long (Alas!) has been denied me, And but to do me grievous wrong Would mussels get inside me, While Colllngridge, alas! condemns All, all the shellfish of the Thames. No more, because it likes me well, My beaming eyes shall twinkle, To drag with pins from out his shell The lone, retiring winkle, And microbes, bent on evil work, By millions in the scallop lurk. No more at thoughts of cockles hot Shall I with rapturous throbs stir, And Rose distinctly says I'm not To think of touching lobster, And soon suspicion may be heard About the crab, my favorite bird. On stalls though whelks, most filling fare, With thoughts of feasting cheer one, Rose, never have a penn'orth there Nay, cease to frown, my dear one, I know that this is not your wont, But heed my timely warning Don't! Meanwhile we can but long, my own, For dawning of that new age, When these Thames shellfish, wiser grown, Decline to feed on sewage, Or, better! When there is,mdeed, No sewage there on which to feed. London Chronicle. |