Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/22

 "He plays the airy flute, &emsp;And looks depressed and blighted, Doves round about him 'toot,' &emsp;And lambkins dance delighted.



"He labours more than you &emsp;At worsted work, and frames it; In old maids' albums, too, &emsp;Sticks seaweed—yes, and names it!" The tempter said his say, &emsp;Which pierced him like a needle— He summoned straight away &emsp;His sexton and his beadle.

(These men were men who could &emsp;Hold liberal opinions: On Sundays they were good— &emsp;On week-days they were minions.)