Gentle readers, this poem in a mid-19th century children’s family circle book perfectly describes the long and arduous day of an ordinary family cook.
The Discontented Cook. Image @Forrester's pictorial miscellany for the family circle edited by Mark Forrester, 1855
Oh, who would wish to be a cook,
To live in such a broil!With all one’s pains, to cook one’s brains,
And lead a Life of toil?“Tis, Stir the pudding, Peggy,
And give those ducks a turn;Be quick, be quick, you lazy jade!
Else one or both will burn.An hour before the rising sun
I’m forced to leave my bed,To make the fires, and fry the cakes,
And get the table spread.
‘Tis, Stir the pudding, Peggy,And give those ducks a turn;
Be quick, be quick, you lazy jade!Else one or both will burn.
The breakfast’s scarely over,
And all things set to rights,
Before the savory haunch, or fowl,My skill and care invites.
‘T is, Stir the pudding, Peggy,And give those ducks a turn;
Be quick, be quick, you lazy jade!Else one or both will burn.
And here I stand before the fire,
And turn them round and round;
And keep the kettle boiling —I hate their very sound!
‘T is, Stir the pudding, Peggy,And give those ducks a turn;
Be quick, be quick, you lazy jade!Else one or both will burn.
And long before the day is spent,
I ‘m all in such a toast,
You scarce could tell which’s done the mostMyself, or what I roast!
‘Tis, Stir the pudding, Peggy,And give those ducks a turn;
Be quick, be quick, you lazy jade’.Else one or both will burn.
From Forrester’s Pictorial Miscellany for the Family Circle, 1855
Jane Austen's World 
What a cute poem. My sentiments exactly….Good enough to prints and frame for my kitchen.
It was a hard life indeed for those servants who worked in the hot kitchens over open flames. The pots were heavy and cumbersome, the hours long, and the masters and mistresses often unforgiving of errors of any kind. And although servants like Peggy did not receive much credit when things went well, they no doubt received the blame when things went poorly.
It’s true, Gayle. I first thought of myself cooking for our family of 9 reading this. But then, when they complain I can always say, “Cook for yourself if you don’t like it!” Which, I imagine they didn’t have leisure to do! Nor electricity, a microwave, hot running water, stainless steel, instant oatmeal… Yes, life is good! Even when we are all our own cooks and scullery maids!
The life of servants was harsh. Up and fed, fires started before the family rose (which means Cook was busy very early) and off to bed after the family. They all worked very hard, except for the footmen, whose main responsibility was to be tall and handsome. Most could not work much after the age of forty and were sent off to workhouses.
Both my mother and her mother workd in ‘service’ as they called it then. My grandmother was a waspish little woman, London born and bred, and not given to fancy graces (a widow with two sons and a daughter to raise). Just before the First World War when she worked as cook to Lloyd George’s private secretary. the household included a German butler who was forever trying to improve his English and often asked the name of the dishes carrried to the dining room.
One day, Grandmother was especially harried and on a short fuse, so when the butler asked the name of the dish she answered, “stewed eels’ feet”. He never forgave her for the howls of laughter from the guests at his introduction of the dish.
What a nice poem, thanks for sharing. Cooks led very hard lives in the past indeed.
When I’m watching period dramas, I can’t imagine myself living either the Upstairs or the Downstairs life!