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That's the scamp that has done this scandalous I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.

That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's

I AM a friar of orders gray,
Ring !"

And down in the valleys I take my way ;
The poor little Jackdaw,

I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip,
When the Monks he saw,

Good store of venison fills my scrip;
Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw ;

My long bead-roll I merrily chant; And turned his bald head as much as to say,

Where'er I walk no money I want ; “Pray be so good as to walk this way!”

And why I'm so plump the reason I tell, – Slower and slower

Who leads a good life is sure to live well. He limped on before,

What baron or squire,
Till they came to the back of the belfry-door,

Or knight of the shire,
Where the first thing they saw,

Lives half so well as a holy friar?
Midst the sticks and the straw,
Was the RING, in the nest of that little Jack After supper of heaven I dream,
daw !

But that is a pullet and clouted cream ;
Myself, by denial, I mortify —

With a dainty bit of a warden-pie ;
Then the great Lord Cardinal called for his book,

I'm clothed in sackcloth for my sin,
And off that terrible curse he took ;

With old sack wine I'm lined within ;
The mute expression

A chirping cup is my matin song,
Served in lieu of confession,

And the vesper's bell is my bowl, ding dong. And, being thus coupled with full restitution,

What baron or squire,
The Jackdaw got plenary absolution !

Or knight of the shire,
When those words were heard,

Lives half so well as a holy friar?
That poor little bird

JOHN O'KEEFE Was so changed in a moment, 't was really absurd:

He grew sleek and fat;

In addition to that,
A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat !

His tail waggled niore
Even than before ;

[" The Vicar of Bray in Berkshire, England, was Simon Alleyn, of

Allen, and held his place from 1540 to 1588. He was a Papist under But no longer it wagged with an impudent air, the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Edward the

Sixth. He was a Papist again under Mary, and once more becane No longer he perched on the Cardinal's chair.

a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scandal to tbe He hopped now about

gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, and With a gait devout ;

taxed for being a turn-coat and an inconstant changeling, as Fuller

expresses it, he replied: "Not so, neither; for if I changed my At Matins, at Vespers, he never was out; religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle, which is to live and

die the Vicar of Bray." - D'ISRAELI. And, so far from any more pilfering deeds,

The idea seems to have been adapted to some changelings of a He always seemed telling the Confessor's beads. later date. In a note in Nichols's " Select Poems," 1733, VOL VIII. If any one lied, or if any one swore,

p. 234, it is stated that "the song of the Vicar of Bray is said

to have been written by an officer in Colonel Fuller', regiment, in Or slumbered in prayer-time and happened to the reign of King George the First. It is founded on an historical

fact; and though it reflects no great honor on the hero of the poen, snore,

is humorously expressive of the complexion of :he times, in the sucThat good Jackdaw

cessive reigns from Charles the Second to George the First.") Would give a great “Caw!"

In good King Charles's golden days, As much as to say, “Don't do so any more !"

When loyalty no harın meant, While many remarked, as his manners they saw,

A zealous high-churchman was I, That they “ never had known such a pious Jack

And so I got preferment.
daw !"

To teach my flock I never missed :
He long lived the pride

Kings were by God appointed,
Of that country side,

And lost are those that dare resist
And at last in the odor of sanctity died ;

Or touch the Lord's anointed.
When, as words were too faint

And this is law that I'll maintain
His merits to paint,

Until my dying day, sir, The Conclave determined to make him a Saint.

That whatsoever king shall reign, Andon newly made Saints and Popes, as you know,

Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir. It's the custom at Rome new names to bestow, So they canonized him by the name of Jem Crow! RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.

When royal James possessed the crown, (THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESQ.)

And popery grew in fashion,

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The penal laws I hooted down,

And read the declaration ;
The Church of Rome I found would fit

Full well my constitution;
And I had been a Jesuit
But for the revolution.

And this is law that I'll maintain, etc.

And he wore green “specs,” with a tortoise

shell rim, And his hat was remarkably broad in the brim, And she was uncommonly fond of him,

And they were a loving pair !

And the name and the fame

Of the Knight and his Dame, Were everywhere hailed with the loudest acclaim.

When William was our king declared,

To ease the nation's grievance ; With this new wind about I steered,

And swore to him allegiance ;
Old principles I did revoke,

Set conscience at a distance ;
Passive obedience was a joke,
A jest was non-resistance.

And this is law that I'll maintain, etc.

When royal Anne became our queen,

The Church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen,

And I became a Tory ;
Occasional conformists base,

I blamed their moderation ;
And thought the church in danger was,
By such prevarication.

And this is law that I'll maintain, etc.

Now Sir Thomas the Good,

Be it well understood,
Was a man of very contemplative mood,

He would pore by the hour,

O'er a weed or a flower, Or the slugs that come crawling out after a

shower; Black-beetles and Bumble-bees, Blue-bottle flies And Moths, were of no small account in his

eyes ; An“Industrious Flea" he'd by no means despise, While an

“Old Daddy-long-legs," whose “long

legs" and thighs Passed the common in shape or in color or size, He was wont to consider an absolute prize.

Well, it happened one day,

I really can't say The particular month ; but I think ’t was in

May, 'T was, I know, in the Springtime, -- when

“Nature looks gay,” As the Poet observes, and on tree-top and spray The dear little dickey-birds carol away ; When the grass is so green, and the sun is so

bright, And all things are teeming with life and with

light, — That the whole of the house was thrown into

affright, For no soul could conceive what was gone with

the Knight!

When George in pudding-time came o'er,

And moderate men looked big, sir, My principles I changed once more,

And so became a Whig, sir ; And thus preferment I procured

From our new faith's defender ; And almost every day abjured The pope and the pretender.

And this is law that I'll maintain, etc.

The illustrious house of Hanover,

And Protestant succession,
To these I do allegiance swear —

While they can keep possession :
For in my faith and loyalty

I nevermore will falter,
And George my lawful king shall be —
Until the times do alter.

And this is law that I'll maintain, etc.



It seems he had taken

A light breakfast, – bacon, Anegg, — with a little broiled haddock, - at most A round and a half of some hot buttered toast, With a slice of cold sirloin from yesterday's roast.

And then – let me see !

He had two, perhaps three, Cups (with sugar and cream) of strong gunpowder

tea, With a spoonful in each of some choice eau de vie, Which with nine out of ten would perhaps dis

In fact, I and my son

Mix “ black" with our “Hyson," Neither having the nerves of a bull or a bison, And both hating brandy like what some call



"Hail, wedded love! mysterious tie!"

Thomson - or Somebody. The Lady Jane was tall and slim,

The Lady Jane was fair, And Sir Thomas, her lord, was stout of limb, And his cough was short, and his eyes were dim,


No matter for that,

But, when she

comes to," He had called for his hat,

O, 't is shocking to view With the brim that I 've said was so broad and

The sight which the corpse reveals ! so slat,

Sir Thomas's body, And his “ specs " with the tortoise-shell rim,

It looked so odd, — he and his cane

Was half eaten up by the eels ! With the crutch-handled top, which he used to His waistcoat and huse, and the rest of his sustain

clothes, His steps in his walks, and to poke in the shrubs

Were all gnawled through and through! And the grass, when unearthing his worms and

And out of each shoe his grubs.

An eel they drew; Thus armed, he set out on a ramble, - alack !

And from each of his pockets they pulled out He set out, poor dear soul ! — but he never came

two ! back !

And the gardener himself had secreted a few,

As well we may suppose ; The morning dawned, – and the next, — and For when he came running to give the alarm the next,

He had six in the basket that hung on his And all in the mansion were still perplexed ;



once more


His own ;

Up came running a man, at a deuce of a pace,

Good Father John With that very peculiar expression of face

Was summoned anon; Which always betokens dismay or disaster,

Holy water was sprinkled, Crying out, - 'twas the gardener, — “O Ma'am!

And little bells tinkled, we've found Master!"

And tapers were lighted, “Where? where ?" screamed the lady ; and

And incense ignited,
Echo screamed, “Where ?" And masses were sung, and masses were said,
The man could n't say “ There !" All day, for the quiet repose of the deal,
He had no breath to spare,

And all night no one thought about going to bed.
But, gasping for air, he could only respond
By pointing, – he pointed, alas ! TO THE POND. But Lady Jane was tall and slim,
"T was e'en so, - poor dear knight ! — with his

And Lady Jane was fair, specs " and his hat

And, ere morning came, that winsome dame He'd gone poking his nose into this and to that, Had made up her mind, or what's much the

When, close to the side
Of the bank, he espied

Had thought about

changing her An uncommon fine" tadpole, remarkably fat ! He stooped ; -- and he thought her And she said, with a pensive air,

he had caught her! To Thompson the valet, while taking away, Got hold of her tail, —and to land almost brought When supper was over,

the cloth and the her,

tray, When — he plumped head and heels into, fifteen feet water !

I've ate ; but any

So good ne'er tasted before !-
The Lady Jane was tall and slim,

They 're a fish, too, of which I'm remarkably
The Lady Jane was fair,

Alas, for Sir Thomas!-shegrieved for him. Go, pop Sir Thomas again in the pond ;
As she saw two serving-men, sturdy of limb,

Poor dear ! HE'LL CATCH
His body between them bear :

“Eels a many




RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. She sobbed and she sighed, she lamented and

For of sorrow brimful was her cup ;
She swooned, and I think she'd have fallen down
and died

If Captain MacBride
Had not been by her side,

SIR MARMADUKE was a hearty knight, With the gardener ; they both their assistance

Good man ! old man ! supplied,

He's painted standing bolt upright, And managed to hold her up.

With his hose rolled over his knee;



His periwig 's as white as chalk, And on his fist he holds a hawk ;

And he looks like the head

Of an ancient family.

Hell-to-split over the prairie !

I was almost froze with skeer; But we rousted up some torches,

And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon,

Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat, - but of little Gabe

No hide nor hair was found.

His dining-room was long and wide,

Good man ! old man !
His spaniels lay by the fireside ;

And in other parts, d' ye see,
Cross-bows, tobacco-pipes, old hats,
A saddle, his wife, and a litter of cats;

And he looked like the head

Of an ancient family.

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He never turned the poor from the gate,

Good man ! old man !
But was always ready to break the pate

Of his country's enemy.
What knight could do a better thing
Than serve the poor and fight for his king ?

And so may every head
Of an ancient family.


By this, the torches was played out,

And me and Isrul Parr Went off for some wood to a sheepfold

That he said was somewhar thar.

We found it at last, and a little shed

Where they shut up the lambs at night. We looked in, and seen them huddled thar,

So warm and sleepy and white; And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped,

As peart as 'ever you see, “I want a chaw of terbacker,

And that's what 's the matter of me."



I don't go much on religion,

I never ain't had no show; But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir,

On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets

And free-will, and that sort of thing, But I b'lieve in God and the angels,

Ever sence one night last spring.

How did he git thar ? Angels.

He could never have walked in that storm. They jest scooped down and toted him

To whar it was safe and warm.
And I think that saving a little child,

And bringing him to his own,
Is a derned sight better business
Than loafing around The Throne.



I come into town with some turnips,

And my little Gabe come along, No four-year-old in the county

Could beat him for pretty and strong, Peart and chipper and sassy,

Always ready to swear and fight, And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker,

Jest to keep his milk-teeth white.

The comet ! he is on his way,

And singing as he flies ; The whizzing planets shrink before

The spectre of the skies.
Ah, well may regal orbs burn blue,

And satellites turn pale,
Ten million cubic miles of head,

Ten billion leagues of tail !

The snow come down like a blanket

As I passed by Taggart's store ; I went in for a jug of molasses

And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started, -

I hearil one little squall,
And hell-to-split over the prairie

Went tean, Little Breeches and all.

On, on by whistling spheres of light,

He flashes and he flames ;
He turns not to the left nor right,

He asks them not their names.

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I saw a poet dip a scroll

Each moment in a tub;
I read upon the warping back,

“ The Dream of Beelzebub." He could not see his verses burn,

Although his brain was fried, And ever and anon he bent

To wet them as they dried.

I saw the scalding pitch roll down

The crackling, sweating pines, And streams of smoke, like water-spouts,

Burst through the rumbling mines.
I asked the firemen why they made

Such noise about the town ;
They answered not, but all the while

The brakes went up and down.

Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays

Now divers birds are heard to sing, And sundry flowers their heads upraise,

Hail to the coming on of Spring! The songs of those said birds arouse

The memory of our youthful hours, As green as those said sprays and boughs,

As fresh and sweet as those said flowers. The birds aforesaid — happy pairs -

Love, 'mid the aforesaid boughs, inshrines In freehold nests; themselves their heirs,

Administrators, and assigns.
O busiest term of Cupid's Court,

Where tender plaintiffs actions bring, – Season of frolic and of sport,

Hail, as aforesaid, coming Spring!

I saw a roasting pullet sit

Upon a baking egg ; I saw a cripple scorch his hand

Extinguishing his leg. I saw nine geese upon the wing

Towards the frozen pole, And every mother's gosling fell

Crisped to a crackling coal.

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I saw the ox that browsed the grass

Writhe in the blistering rays,
The herbage in his shrinking jaws

Was all a fiery blaze ;
I saw huge fishes, boiled to rags,

Bob through the bubbling brine ;
And thoughts of supper crossed my soul, –

I had been rash at mine.

O, HAPPY, happy, thrice happy state,
When such a bright Planet governs the fate

Of a pair of united lovers !
'T is theirs, in spite of the Serpent's hiss,
To enjoy the pure primeval kiss
With as much of the old original bliss

As mortality ever recovers !

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