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Yorkshire Puddings

A magical foodstuff which is the subject of folklore and the tale is adequately told in a monologue of Marriott Edgar's. In reality is was made to fill the eater so they would eat less meat which was much more expensive. Traditionally therefore it is eaten first with gravy on its own.


Yorkshire Pudding - Marriott Edgar

Waitress, excuse me a minute, now listen.
No I’m not finding fault miss,
the taters are lovely, the beef is alreet
but what sort of pudding is this?

It’s what? Yorkshire Pudding?
Nar, come, come, come, lass.
It’s what, Yorkshire pudding, you say?
Nay, its pudding I’ll grant you, some sort of pudding,
but not Yorkshire Pudding. Nay, nay,

The real Yorkshire Pudding’s a poem in batter
To make one’s an art not a trade.
Now listen to me for I’m going to tell thee
how’t first Yorkshire pudding was made.

A young angel on leave from Heaven
came flying above Ilkla Moor,
And the angel, poor thing got a cramp in her wing
And came down at an old woman’s door

And the old woman smiled and said,
“eee, its an angel-well I am surprised to see thee.
I’ve not seen an angel afore but thas welcome.
I’ll make a nice cup of tea.”

And the angel said, “ee thank you kindly I will.”
Well she had 2 or 3 cups of tea,
3 or 4 sally lunns and a couple of buns,
angel’s eat very lightly you see.

T'old woman looked at the clock and said,
“By gum he’s due home from t’mill is my Dan.
You get on wi yer tea, but you must excuse me,
I must make puddin now for t’old man.”

Then the angel jumped up and said,
“give me a bowl, flour and water and eggs, salt and all
and I’ll show thee how we make puddings in heaven
for Thomas and Peter and Paul.”

Then the old woman gave her the things
And the angel just covered her wings and prayed with a hush.
Then she tenderly tickled the mixture wit’ spoon
like an artist would paint with a brush.

She mixed up that pudding with Heavenly magic,
she played with her spoon on that dough,
Just like Liberace on the piano or
Kennedy would twiddle his bow.

And the old woman whispered, “ Oh angel,
the clouds that I see in yon’ skies,
so fleecy and foamy is batter for pudding
for saints feasting in Paradise.

It’s mixed with the rain and its stirred with a rainbow
and baked in the beautiful sun.”
The angel kept stirring and smiled as she answered,
“and when a star falls, it’s done!

But joking aside,” Said the angel,
“the secret of puddings made here or above
is not in the flour and the water but when you’re mixing it,
see that you mix it… with love.”

And when it were done, she put it in t’oven
and said to t’old woman, “goodbye.”
Leaving the first Yorkshire Pudding there had ever been made….
and that’s why:

It melts in the mouth like the snow in the sunshine.
As light as a maiden’s kiss.
As soft as the fluff on the breast of the dove……..