Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/20



IST while the poet trolls Of , Who had a cure of souls At Spiffton-extra-Sooper

He lived on curds and whey, And daily sang their praises, And then he'd go and play With buttercups and daisies.

Wild croquêt banned, And all the sports of Mammon, He warred with cribbage, and He exorcised backgammon.

His helmet was a glance That spoke of holy gladness; A saintly smile his lance, His shield a tear of sadness.

His Vicar smiled to see This armour on him buckled: With pardonable glee He blessed himself and chuckled.

"In mildness to abound My curate's sole design is, In all the country round There's none so mild as mine is!"