Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/128

 He one night 'gan to dofe, when under the rofe The parlbn was that night non fe ipfe ;

Non fe ipfe, you'll fay, what is that to the lay ? In plain Englifh then, the parfon was tipfey ;

When the Clerk coming in, with his band-bobbing chin,

As folemn and fniv'ling as may be : The Vicar he gap'd, his Clerk hem'd and fcrap'd,

Saying, pleafe, fir, to bury a baby.

Now our author fuppofes the Clerk's name was IVTofes,

Who look'd at his mafter fo rofy ; He blink'd with one eye, and with wig all awry,

He hiccup'd out, How cheers it, Mofy ?

A child, fir, is carry'd, for you to be buried ;

Bury me, Mofes, no that won't do. Lord, fir, fays the Clerk, you are all in the dark,

'1 is a child to be buried, not you.

Well, Mofes, don't hurry, the infant we'll bury j

But, Mafter, the corpfe cannot ftay : What can't it but why ? for once then we'll try

If a corpfe, Mofes, can run away.

But Mofes reply'd, the parifh will chide, For keeping them out in cold w eather :

Then, Mozy, quoth he, pray tell 'em from me, I'll bury them warm all together.

But, fir, it rains hard, pray have fome regard ;

, Regard, Mofes, that makes me ftay ! For no corpfe, young or old, in the rain can catch

cold, But, Mofes, faith you and I may.

Mofes

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