A Poem by Joseph Cecil Wingard

"A TABLE AT RULES"

Oh, Come with me to Maiden Lane,

Where stands old Tom Rules' fair domain,

A rendezvous for great and small

Near Covent Garden and St. Paul,

Near theatre and music hall,

An evening out we'll long recall.

 

Here one may dine most splendidly,

On game and fish and English tea

Here Oysters, ugly though they be,

Put on a face deliciously

Here salmon, trout, and crayfish, too,

End their careers with much ado

Here treacle with its golden pool

soaks in the sponge cake (oh, I drool)

The cream and custard, steamy hot,

Blend with the treacle -hit the spot!

Here may we take a table fine

And sit us down to chat and dine.

 

For Rules is an enchanting place,

The very home of social grace,

Against which Dickens pressed his nose

And later dined, as fortunes rose,

Where others great as Galsworthy

Could drape a napkin on the knee.

And leaving morsels is a sin

(Its fare is much too good, you know,

To leave a bit for social show!)

 

This is the place where Thackeray,

The author of the Vanity,

Found yet another fare (I pun),

Upon my word (my pun is done),

Here Graham Greene his birthday spent

For years in this establishment;

And Waugh and other famous sorts

Dined happily, from all reports!

 

Here Kings may please their palates, too

(The King may rule the nation - true;

But cooks rule kings); and, yes, the great

Are just as boys when dinner's late

When Edward, Prince of Wales, took tea

With Lily Langtry, privately.

 

He England ruled, but what of that?

She ruled the King with cheese and chat!

Though men be great at war and art,

'Tis cooks who keep the ribs apart!

And Rules, we know, is, oh, so able

To put a morsel on the table.

For what is man without his bread?

(Marie forgot and lost her head!)

 

The Pennines yield their ample hoard

of grouse and rabbit for the board,

of partridge, pheasant, duck, and teal,

of snipe and venison - God's yield!

The Teesdale woodcock, all that's game,

Obey the Rules when Rules takes aim.

The bounty of the British Isles

Gives customers a thousand smiles

'Tis joy to dine so pleasantly

On pies and puddings, tarts, and tea.

 

To sit amid such pleasant sights

As Rules can offer day and night

And what's so clean, so pure and white,

As a cloth at Rules in candlelight?

 

A golden glow is in the air

And Time stands still for all that's fair.

The silver bowls and silver trays,

The linen cloths and overlays.

The cellared salt and server's ways,

The very scraper taste portrays.

One hears the touch upon the plate

Of silver forks of ancient date,

The clink of glass, and in its sphere,

The mirrored crystal chandelier.

 

The buzz of voices casts its spell,

And laughter echoes all is well.

I have my mustard in a pot,

A spoon that is no dainty lot,

A lump of sugar for my tea,

Another serving just for me!

 

Beyond my table Hamlet stands

With Yorick's skull within his hands.

He contemplates on life and death

I concentrate on having breath

To finish one last bite of food.

Oh, my, it is so very good!

 

Ah, soul, when all is done and said,

What matches sauce upon one's bread,

A cup of coffee, pot of tea,

A bit of talk 'tween you and me?

Food is so - reassuring;

Dining in such rooms alluring,

And rooms at Rules are polished rooms,

As gilded as Egyptian tombs,

With polished wood and polished beams

In which the lamplight softly dreams.

 

The booths are plush; the chairs are, too,

And carpet's soft to foot and shoe,

And every wall with art is thick,

With ancient clocks that slowly tick,

With brackets, arches, bric-a-brac,

With lamps and busts and antlered rack.

The mirrors and the lights within

Seem jewels in a diadem.

Each niche is filled with objets d'art,

And every candle seems a star!

 

The fringe'd curtains muffle Time,

The stuffed fowl imitates the mime.

The hearths and mantles stately stare;

And all give Rules a royal air.

 

I, too, have dined at Rules, you see,

A little table just for me,

So I can testify to you

That old things matter - yes, they do

Tradition is what sees us through

And quality will draw a queue.

May Rules still rule as in the past

May all its glories ever last

Well done, Old Son! Two thousand cheers

To Rules! for its two hundred years

Joseph Cecil Wingard  1998