Whilst we sit around the
table, please allow me to relate,
The entrancing ancient fable
of "The Willow Pattern Plate."
Every picture tells a story,
like the Willow Pattern Plate,
Where two lovers dwelt in
glory and defied paternal hate.
By elopement from the castle
you observe upon the ridge,
Where the violent old rascal
chases them across the bridge.
Tries to catch the rogue
and whip him, 'Ere he steals the daughter fair;
But the loving pair outstrip
him, let him languish in despair.
Thrown upon their own resources,
in a junk they emigrate,
To a splendid little oasis,
near the margin of the plate.
Dwell in peace, whilst unmolested,
in most perfect harmony;
Till at length they are
arrested, by his Nibs' gendarmerie.
Then the tyrant lord appeals
to law and lucre, with their pow'r;
Caught, confined, they have
their meals too, in that horrid little tow'r.
When the pair are executed,
to appease their lord irate,
To a pair of doves transmuted,
still they fly upon the plate.
Every picture tells a story,
like the Willow Pattern blue,
And true love will reign
in glory, To infinity! Adieu.
by B. L. Bowers
