A baker stands in front of his oven. He is smoking a pipe and his shovel leans on the wall next to him., Text: The bread that you bake is not fit for a dog, / Your pies and your cake would sicken a hog; / Sawdust-flour you use, rancid butter and lard, / For such practice you ought to be feathered and tarred, / Or else to be taken and baked in your oven -- / You dirty old cheat, and rascal, and sloven., Provenance: Helfand, William H.
A baker in a paper hat is putting a pie into an oven. His shoe has split open and his red nose, combined with the word "sodden," imply that he is drunk while on the job., Text: What! Buy of you! Your senseless grin / Would sour all your pies, / And not a loaf, poor, sodden oaf, / But would smatter of your lies. / Heavy as lead, your lightest bread, / Cakes, buns, and buscuits, all; / Smash your paper cap on your grinning head, / And into your oven crawl!, Provenance: Helfand, William H..
