Laughter from a Cloud By Walter Raleigh with a foreword by Hilary Raleigh |
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THE BATTLE HYMN OF KENSIT'S MEN |
 | Laughter from a Cloud |  |
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THE BATTLE HYMN OF KENSIT'S MEN
1
The Church is in a hawful state,With Richerlists and such;
The Pope 'e won't 'ave long to wait
For most of 'em—not much!
So Mister Kensit's took the 'ump
(And rightly too, says I),
And when 'e goes upon the stump
You'll see the feathers fly.
Then pack yer traps, and clear the way; depart, be gone, get Hout!
And make no noise, or Kensit's boys 'll show you 'oo can shout;—
No more of yer 'anky panky now, no more of yer Romish rot,
For Johnny K. is hon the way to bust the blooming lot.
And make no noise, or Kensit's boys 'll show you 'oo can shout;—
No more of yer 'anky panky now, no more of yer Romish rot,
For Johnny K. is hon the way to bust the blooming lot.
2
They've aconites and chasubells(Same like the Papists wears),
And makes the most unchristian smells
With hincense at their prayers;
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And lamps that halways burn;
Such 'eaps of 'oly bric-a-brac,
There's 'ardly room to turn!
So pack yer traps, etc.
3
Now what would Martin Luther sayIf 'e come back to earth?
(And 'e was never in 'is day
A foe to Honest Mirth)—
I think that 'im and old John Knox
Would twig the little game,
And, knowing it was 'eterodox,
They simply would exclaim—
Now pack yer traps, etc.
4
A prayer may serve a useful hendWith something for to git,
But prayer for Nokes, my pore old friend,
Is neither sense nor wit;
'E's safely planted hin 'is grave,
(No longer hin the swim)
—Hup comes a low blasphemious knave
And takes and prays for 'im.
Then pack yer traps, etc.
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5
It fairly makes my blood to bile,That Jesuites from Rome
Should crawl about the 'arth and spile
The sanctity of 'ome;
And if my missus, or the gals,
Gets talkative, and tries
To blab in them confessionals
I'll black their blooming eyes!
Then pack yer traps, etc.
6
I went into St. Ninny's Church,Where those so-called divines
Do bob, and jinnyflect and lurch,
Figged up unto the nines;
I ups and says—“You un'oly clown,
'Ow dare you 'ave the face
To go a capering hup and down
Before the Throne of Grace?
Now pack yer traps, etc.
7
“I don't object to fancy dressOn niggers at the races;
I'm fond of dancin', I confess,
(That is, in proper places);
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To music by the band,
Rigged out in petticoats and caps,
Is more than I can stand.”
So pack yer traps, etc.
8
“Sit down!”—says 'e. “I won't”—says I.“Then, verger, turn 'im out.”
With that I lets a Bible fly,
And lands 'im hon the snout:
To stop 'is richerlistic row
I knocked 'im orf 'is perch,
And there and then we taught 'im 'ow
To desecrate a Church.
Then pack yer traps, etc.
9
My friends all stuck to me like bricks,The 'ymn-books flew like 'ail;
With one of them big candlesticks
I smashed the haltar-rail:
The idolaters set up a squall,
But soon they got the Toe:—
We made a 'olesome Gospel-'all
Of that galanty-show.
So pack yer traps, etc.
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10
Come all you noble Protestants(For 'alf the job ain't done),
It is your 'elp that Hengland wants—
Yuss! Hevery mother's son!
If each of you brings 'alf a brick,
A better church we'll raise
Than hany blooming Cawtholic
In hall 'is blighted days.
They'll pack their traps, they'll clear the way, depart—be gone—get Hout—
They'll make no noise, or we're the boys will show them 'oo can shout!
They'll stow their 'anky-panky then, they'll chuck their Romish rot,
When Johnny K. 'as 'ad 'is way and bust the blooming lot.
They'll make no noise, or we're the boys will show them 'oo can shout!
They'll stow their 'anky-panky then, they'll chuck their Romish rot,
When Johnny K. 'as 'ad 'is way and bust the blooming lot.
| Laughter from a Cloud | |