Arrival at Caen

Through Rouen when our friends had been, And all its famous places seen, They travelled on, old Caen to see, Another town in Normandy.

Arrived at Caen, the travellers here Before the chief Hotel appear, Miss Earle, Rose, Bertie you descry— The rest are coming by-and-by.

Monsieur le Maitre, with scrape and bow, Stands ready to receive them now, And Madame with her blandest air, And their alert Commissionaire.

Next up the staircase see them go, With femme de chambre the way to show. Father and Dennis, standing there, Are asking for the bill of fare.

Monsieur le Maitre, who rubs his hands And says, "What are Monsieur's commands?" With scrape and bow, again you see— The most polite of men is he.

Now that dinner is ordered, we'll just take a peep At the cooks in the kitchen—just see! what a heap Of plates are provided, and copper pans too;— They'll soon make a dinner for me and for you. French cookery's famous for flavouring rare, But of garlic I think they've enough and to spare.

If we ask how their wonderful dishes are made, I'm afraid they won't tell us the tricks of the trade. Do they make them, I wonder, of frogs and of snails? Or are these, after all, only travellers' tales? The names are all down on the "Menu," no doubt, But the worst of it is that we can't make them out.