AL

At Oxford, in St. Mary's Parish,

BEN TYRRELL, Cook of high Renown,
To please the Palates of the Gown,

At Three-pence each, makes MUTTON-PIES,
Which thus he begs to advertise:

He welcomes all his Friends at Seven,
Each Saturday and Wedn'fday Even*.

*Mr. TYRRELL, Cook, in the High-street, Oxford, having formed a laudable Design of obliging the University with Mutton Pies, twice a Week; this Advertisement appeared, on that Occafion, in the OXFORD JOURNAL, Nov. 25th, 1758.

No Relicks ftale, with Art unjust,
Lurk in Disguise beneath his Crust ;
His Pies, to give you all fair Play,
Smoak only when 'tis Market-Day:
And all muft own, how fresh his Meat,
While JOLLY's Porter crowns the Treat.

If Rumps and Kidneys can allure ye,
BEN takes upon him to affure ye,
No Cook fhall better hit the Tafte,

In giving Life and Soul to Pafte.

If cheap and good have Weight with Men,
Come all ye Youths, and fup with BEN.
If Liquor in a MUTTON-PIE

Has any Charms, come tafte and try!
O bear me Witness, Ifts' Sons!

Pierce but the Cruft-the Gravy runs:
The Tafter licks his Lips, and cries,

"O RARE BEN TYRRELL'S MUTTON PIES!?

But hold-no more-I've faid enough➡

———a PuFF.

Or elfe my PIES may prove

B.EN

BEN TYRRELL's, Wednesday Night,
December 6th, 1758.

OW I congratulate fair Ifis,

How

That fuch the Tafte for Mutton Pies is!
Hail glorious BEN! whose Genius high
First plann'd a genuine MUTTON PIE!
Born to combine with matchlefs Tafte,
The Charms of Pepper and of Pafte!
Was but the Motion of my Pen
Quick as thy Rolling-Pin, O BEN!

O, could my Thoughts thy Pastry ape,
And slide, like yielding Dough, to Shape;
My Genius, like thy Oven glow,
My Numbers, like thy Gravy flow;

Or, in the Twinkling of an Eye,

O then (nor think, to mock thy Trade,

My Promises of Pie-Cruft made)

I'd raise thy culinary Fame

Above immortal Spreadbury's Name:
Though from all Cooks, a Matron wife,
In Sausages fhe bore the Prize:

Her feafoning Hand fhould yield to thine,
Thy Mutton should her Pork outshine.