Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/49

Rh THE VILLAGE CHOIR.

a bar, half a bar,
 * Half a bar onward!
 * Into an awful ditch,
 * Choir and precentor hitch,
 * Into a mess of pitch,
 * They led the Old Hundred.

Trebles to right of them, Tenors to left of them, Basses in front of them,
 * Bellowed and thundered.

Oh, that precentor's look, When the sopranos took Their own time and hook,
 * From the Old Hundred!

Screeched all the trebles here, Boggled the tenors there, Raising the parson's hair,
 * While his mind wandered;

Theirs not to reason why This psalm was pitched too high: Theirs but to gasp and cry
 * Out the Old Hundred.

Trebles to right of them, Tenors to left of them, Basses in front of them,
 * Bellowed and thundered.

Stormed they with shout and yell, Not wise they sang, nor well, Drowning the sexton's bell,
 * While all the church wondered.

Dire the precentor's glare, Flashed his pitchfork in air, Sounding the fresh keys to bear
 * Out the Old Hundred.

Swiftly he turned his back, Reached he his hat from rack, Then from the screaming pack
 * Himself he sundered.