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 * The subject's sad enough
 * To make him rant and puff,
 * And fortunately, too,
 * His Bishop's in a pew.

So claps on extra steam, His eyes are flashing with superior gleam, He is as energetic as can be, For there are fatter livings in that see.


 * The Bishop, when it's o'er,
 * Goes through the vestry door
 * Where, very red,
 * Is mopping of his head.



"Pardon, my Lord, your ' excessive zeal, It is a theme on which I strongly feel." (The sermon somebody had sent him down From London, at a charge of half-a-crown.)