Full many a sinful notion Conceived of foreign
Has come across the ocean To harm this land of ours;
And heresies called fashions Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora!
O mores! What profanations
That seek to dim the glories Of apple-pie and cheese!
I'm glad my education Enables me to
Against the vile temptation Held out on every hand;
Eschewing all the tittles With vanity replete,
I'm loyal to the victuals Our grandsires used to eat!
I'm glad I've got three willing boys To hang around and
Their mother for the filling joys Of apple-pie and cheese!
Your flavored creams and ices And your dainty
Are mighty fine devices To regale the dainty dude;
Your terrapin and oysters, With wine to wash 'em down,
Are just the thing for roisters When painting of the town;
No flippant, sugared notion Shall my appetite appease,
Or bate my soul's devotion To apple-pie and cheese!
The pie my Julia makes me (God bless her Yankee ways!)On memory's pinions takes me To dear Green Mountain days;
And seems like I see Mother Lean on the window-sill,
A-handin' me and brother What she knows 'll keep us still;
And these feelings are so grateful, Says I, "Julia, if you please,
I'll take another plateful Of that apple-pie and cheese!"And cheese!
No alien it, sir, That's brought across the sea,—No Dutch antique, nor Switzer, Nor glutinous de Brie;
There's nothing I abhor so As mawmets of this ilk—Give me the harmless morceau That's made of true-blue milk!
No matter what conditions Dyspeptic come to feaze,
The best of all physicians Is apple-pie and cheese!
Though ribalds may decry 'em, For these twin boons we stand,
Partaking thrice per diem Of their fullness out of hand;
No enervating fashion Shall cheat us of our
To gratify our passion With a mouthful at a bite!
We'll cut it square or bias, Or any way we please,
And faith shall justify us When we carve our pie and cheese!
De gustibus, 't is stated, Non disputandum est.
Which meaneth, when translated, That all is for the best.
So let the foolish choose 'em The vapid sweets of sin,
I will not disabuse 'em Of the heresy they're in;
But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my
Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese!
