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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415715" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Chinee Cook</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They who say the bush is dull are not so very far astray,<br>For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything but gay;<br>But its uneventful dulness I contentedly could brook,<br>If I only could get back my lost, lamented Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We had tried them without number—cooks, to wit—my wife and I;<br>One a week, then three a fortnight, as my wife can testify;<br>But at last we got the right one; I may say 'twas by a fluke,<br>For he dropped in miscellaneous-like, that handy Chinee cook,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He found the kitchen empty, laid his swag down, and commenced;<br>My wife, surprised, found nothing to say anything against;<br>But she asked him for how much a year the work he undertook—<br>“Me workee for me ration,” said that noble Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then right off from next to nothing such a dinner he prepared,<br>That the Governor I'm certain less luxuriously fared;<br>And he waited, too, in spotless white, with such respectful look,<br>And bowed his head when grace was said, that pious Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He did the work of man and maid—made beds and swept out rooms;<br>Nor cooled he in his zeal, as is the manner of new brooms:<br>Oh, he shed celestial brightness on the most sequestered nook,<br>For his mop and pail were everywhere—my cleanly Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We got fat upon his cooking; we were happy in those days,<br>For he tickled up our palates in a thousand pleasant ways.<br>Oh his dinners! Oh his dinners! they were fit for any duke!<br>Oh delectable Mongolian! Oh celestial Chinee cook!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was nothing in creation that he didn't put to use,<br>And the less he got to cook with, all the more he could produce,<br>All nature was his kitchen range, likewise his cook'ry book—<br>Neither Soyer nor Meg Dod could teach that knowing Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And day by day upon my wife and me the mystery grew,<br>How his virtues were so many and his earnings were so few;<br>And we laid our heads together to find out by hook or crook,<br>The secret of the cheapness of that priceless Chinee cook.<br>And still the sense of mystery grew on us day by day,<br>Till it came to be a trouble, and we wished him well away;<br>But we could not find a fault in one so far above rebuke—<br>Ah, we didn't know the value of that valuable cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But one day when I was out he brought my wife a lot of things,<br>Turquoise earrings, opal bracelets, ruby brooches, diamond rings,<br> <br>And he ran their various prices o'er as glibly as a book,<br>And dirt cheap, too, were the jewels of that jewel of a cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I returned, and just in time to stop the purchase of the lot,<br>And to ask him where on earth those costly jewels he had got,<br>And when I looked him in the face, good gracious how he shook!<br>And he says, says he, “Me bought him”—did that trembling Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I a justice of the peace! O Fortune! how unkind!<br>For a certain Sydney robbery came rushing to my mind<br>“You bought them! Ah, I fear me, John, you paid them with a hook!<br>I am bound to apprehend you, oh unhappy Chinee cook!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the mystery was solved at length; the secret now we saw;<br>John had used us as a refuge from the clutches of the law;<br>And, now, alas, too late would I his frailty overlook!<br>He is gone, and I am left without my skilful Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, could I taste again of those delicious luscious things,<br>I could pardon him the robbery of other people's rings;<br>I exaggerated principle, my duty I mistook,<br>When I handed over to the law my peerless Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What would I give just now for one of his superb ragouts,<br>His entrements, his entrées, his incomparable stews?<br>Oh, art and taste and piquancy my happy board forsook,<br>When I came the J.P. over my lamented Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take away the hated letters. 'Twas my “justice” robbed my “peace”;<br>Take my name from the commission, and my matchless cook release.<br>But I fear my Johnny's dead, for I am haunted by a spook,<br>With oblique eyes and a pigtail, like my lost, my Chinee cook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Brunton+Stephens">James Brunton Stephens</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415715" data-title="My Chinee Cook de James Brunton Stephens" data-description="They who say the bush is dull are not so very far astray,
For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything but gay;
But its uneventful dulness I contentedly could brook,
If I only could get back my lost, lamented Chinee cook.

We had tried them without..."></div>
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