The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown

Says Cain—“The Vicar! the Vicar! eh?”
“Yes,” says Tommy, “he asked me to play
A piece with him, just for a trial
How the piano would work with the viol.”
“It's—a very unsatisfactory sperrit”;
Says Cain, “but, however, lerrit! lerrit!
Lerrit!” he said. So Tommy went
To see the Vicar, that was well acquent
With Tommy, a wonderful aisy man
Was Pazon Croft—he was an Englishman
But despard shy, for wherever he came,
He was just like walkin' in a drame—
Very white in the face. I've heard it stated
That Pazon Croft was eddikated
In one of them big churches they've got
Over in England—Cathedrals—what?
Cathedrals—aye: and, the lovely he sung,
He was put to the urgans very young—
Not much like this music that's driven in
Hapes of people, but what he was livin' in.
For, the finest music that ever was done
He'd hardly be knowin when it begun,
Or when it left off—just so, just so—
Havin' it all inside him, you know.
And if the trees, or the stacks in the yard,
Had struck up, he'd been perfectly prepared.
Bless me! if yandhar men had met
A quire of angels that was just let
On Snaefell to practise their hosanners,
He'd ha' axed to look over a book with the tannors—
That's all. So, the first he heard
This Tommy and the fiddle, never a word,
Never a wink, as a body might say;
But, still for all, the next day
There he was, and the next, and the next,
Till Cain was gettin' rather vexed—
And, Couldn' they bake on their own griddles?
And, Well to be lookin' higher than fiddles.

267

So this was the Vicar. So Tommy come;
And, If he wouldn' be throublesome—
And this and that; and, “Come in! come in!”
And down to the piano, and at it like sin;
And jingin' and jangin', and bahin' and bowin',
Till at last they heard the bellows blowin',
For breakfast, you know. So then they left off—
He was a single man was Pazon Croft.

Let it(be).

Desperately.

Organs.

Highest mountain in the island.

Griddle, or girdle, for baking.

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