The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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SIMPLICITY;
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
460
SIMPLICITY;
OR, THE CURATE.
How difficult, alas! to please mankind!
One or the other every moment mutters:
This wants an eastern, that a western wind;
A third, petition for a southern, utters.
One or the other every moment mutters:
This wants an eastern, that a western wind;
A third, petition for a southern, utters.
Some pray for rain, and some for frost and snow;
How can Heav'n suit all palates?—I don't know.
How can Heav'n suit all palates?—I don't know.
Good Lamb, the curate, much approv'd,
Indeed by all his flock belov'd,
Was one dry summer begg'd to pray for rain:
The parson most devoutly pray'd—
The pow'rs of pray'r were soon display'd;
Immediately a torrent drench'd the plain.
Indeed by all his flock belov'd,
Was one dry summer begg'd to pray for rain:
The parson most devoutly pray'd—
The pow'rs of pray'r were soon display'd;
Immediately a torrent drench'd the plain.
It chanc'd that the churchwarden, Robin Jay,
Had of his meadow not yet sav'd the hay:
Thus was his hay to health quite past restoring.
It happen'd too that Robin was from home;
But when he heard the story, in a foam
He sought the parson, like a lion roaring.
Had of his meadow not yet sav'd the hay:
Thus was his hay to health quite past restoring.
It happen'd too that Robin was from home;
But when he heard the story, in a foam
He sought the parson, like a lion roaring.
‘Zounds! Parson Lamb, why what have you been doing?
A pretty storm, indeed, ye have been brewing!
What! pray for rain before I sav'd my hay!
Oh! you're a cruel and ungrateful man!
I that for ever help you all I can;
Ask you to dine with me and Mrs. Jay,
Whenever we have something on the spit,
Or in the pot a nice and dainty bit;
A pretty storm, indeed, ye have been brewing!
What! pray for rain before I sav'd my hay!
461
I that for ever help you all I can;
Ask you to dine with me and Mrs. Jay,
Whenever we have something on the spit,
Or in the pot a nice and dainty bit;
‘Send you a goose, a pair of chicken,
Whose bones you are so fond of picking;
And often too a cag of brandy!
You that were welcome to a treat,
To smoke and chat, and drink and eat;
Making my house so very handy!
Whose bones you are so fond of picking;
And often too a cag of brandy!
You that were welcome to a treat,
To smoke and chat, and drink and eat;
Making my house so very handy!
‘You, parson, serve one such a scurvy trick!
Zounds! you must have the bowels of Old Nick.
What! bring the flood of Noah from the skies,
With my fine field of hay before your eyes!
A numscull, that I wer'n't of this aware!—
Curse me but I had stopp'd your pretty pray'r!’
Zounds! you must have the bowels of Old Nick.
What! bring the flood of Noah from the skies,
With my fine field of hay before your eyes!
A numscull, that I wer'n't of this aware!—
Curse me but I had stopp'd your pretty pray'r!’
‘Dear Mister Jay,’ quoth Lamb, ‘alas! alas!
I never thought upon your field of grass.
I never thought upon your field of grass.
‘Lord! parson, you're a fool one might suppose—
Was not the field just underneath your nose?
This is a very pretty losing job!’—
‘Sir,’ quoth the curate, ‘know that Harry Cobb
Your brother warden join'd, to have the pray'r.’
‘Cobb! Cobb! why this for Cobb was only sport:
What doth Cobb own that any rain can hurt?’
Roar'd furious Jay as broad as he could stare.
Was not the field just underneath your nose?
This is a very pretty losing job!’—
‘Sir,’ quoth the curate, ‘know that Harry Cobb
Your brother warden join'd, to have the pray'r.’
‘Cobb! Cobb! why this for Cobb was only sport:
What doth Cobb own that any rain can hurt?’
Roar'd furious Jay as broad as he could stare.
‘The fellow owns, as far as I can larn,
A few old houses only, and a barn,
As that's the case, zounds, what are show'rs to him?’
Not Noah's flood could make his trumpery swim.
A few old houses only, and a barn,
As that's the case, zounds, what are show'rs to him?’
Not Noah's flood could make his trumpery swim.
‘Besides—why could you not for drizzle pray?
Why force it down in buckets on the hay?
Would I have play'd with your hay such a freak?
No! I'd have stopp'd the weather for a week.’
Why force it down in buckets on the hay?
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No! I'd have stopp'd the weather for a week.’
‘Dear Mister Jay, I do protest,
I acted solely for the best;
I do affirm it, Mister Jay, indeed.
Your anger for this once restrain,
I'll never bring a drop again
Till you and all the parish are agreed.’
I acted solely for the best;
I do affirm it, Mister Jay, indeed.
Your anger for this once restrain,
I'll never bring a drop again
Till you and all the parish are agreed.’
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |