University of Virginia Library

The Doctor in canonic state, Now op'd at once the church-yard gate;
While Grizzle too thought fit to pass,
Who knew the taste of church-yard grass.
“Sir,” cried the Sexton, “let me say
That you must take your mare away,
Or else, believe me, I am bound To lead her quickly to the pound.”
“You do mistake my honest friend—
'Tis a foul wrong that you intend:
A Parson's mare will claim a right In a church-yard to take a bite;

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And, as I come to meditate Among these signs of human fate,
I beg you will not make a riot, But let the poor beast feed in quiet.”
No more the conscious Sexton said, But urg'd his labours for the dead;
While Syntax cull'd, with critic care,
What the sad muse had written there.