For the Every-Day Book. Greengrocers rise at dawn of sun-- August the fifth--come haste away! To Billingsgate the thousands run,-- ’Tis Oyster Day!--’tis Oyster Day! Now at the corner of the street With oysters fine the tub is filled; The cockney stops to have a treat Prepared by one in opening skilled. The pepper-box, the cruet,--wait To give a relish to the taste; The mouth is watering for the bait Within the pearly cloisters chased. Take off the beard--as quick as thought The pointed knife divides the flesh;-- What plates are laden--loads are bought And eaten raw, and cold, and fresh! Some take them with their steak for sauce, Some stew, and fry, and scollop well; While, Leperello-like, some toss; And some in gutting them excel. Poor creatures of the ocean’s wave! Born, fed, and fatted for our prey;-- E’en boys, your shells when parted, crave, Perspective for the “Grotto day.” With watchful eye in many a band The urchin wights at eve appear; They raise their “lights” with voice and hand-- “A grotto comes but once a year!” Then, in some rustic gardener’s bed The shells are fixed for borders neat; Or, crushed within a dustman’s shed, Like deadmen’s bones ’neath living feet. *, *, P.

Oyster Day Monologue from Every Man in His Humour

Rehearse Oyster Day's monologue