The bellmen, they for very fear The Monk and Nun forgot their beads, And the Choristers' song, which late was so strong, For the church did rock as an earthquake shock And a sound was heard like the trumpet's blast, The strong church door could bear no more, And the tapers' light was extinguish'd quite, And the Priests dismay'd, panted and pray'd, They call'd with trembling tongue. And in He came with eyes of flame, The Devil to fetch the dead, And all the church with his presence glow'd Like a fiery furnace red. He laid his hand on the iron chains, And like flax they moulder'd asunder, And he bade the Old Woman of Berkeley rise, A cold sweat started on that cold corpse, She rose on her feet in her winding sheet, And a groan like that which the Old Woman gave Never did mortal hear. She follow'd her Master to the church door, His breath was red like furnace smoke, The Devil he flung her on the horse, And he leapt up before, And away like the lightning's speed they went, And she was seen no more. They saw her no more, but her cries For four miles round they could hear, And children at rest at their mothers' breast Hereford, 1798. THE SURGEON'S WARNING. THE subject of this parody was suggested by a friend, to whom also I am indebted for some of the stanzas. Respecting the patent coffins herein mentioned, after the manner of Catholic Poets, who confess the actions they attribute to their Saints and Deity to be but fiction, I hereby declare that it is by no means my design to depreciate that useful invention; and all persons to whom this Ballad shall come are requested to take notice, that nothing herein asserted concerning the aforesaid coffins is true, except that the maker and patentee lives by St. Martin's Lane. THE Doctor whisper'd to the Nurse, "Now fetch me my brethren, and fetch them with speed," The Surgeon affrighted said; "The Parson and the Undertaker, Let them hasten or I shall be dead." The Parson and the Undertaker They hastily came complying, And the Surgeon's Prentices ran up stairs The Prentices all they enter'd the room, By one, by two, by three; With a sly grin came Joseph in, First of the company. The Surgeon swore as they enter'd his door, He foam'd at the mouth with the rage he felt, Then out they sent the Prentices, He look'd at his brothers with ghastly eyes, And faintly struggled to speak. "All kinds of carcases I have cut up, And now my turn will be; But, brothers, I took care of you, "I have made candles of dead men's fat, "And my Prentices now will surely come And I who have rifled the dead man's grave "Bury me in lead when I am dead, My brethren, I entreat, And see the coffin weigh'd, I beg, Lest the plumber should be a cheat. "And let it be solder'd closely down, Strong as strong can be, I implore; And put it in a patent coffin, That I may rise no more. "If they carry me off in the patent coffin, Their labour will be in vain ; Let the Undertaker see it bought of the maker, Who lives by St. Martin's Lane. "And bury me in my brother's church, And I implore, lock the church door, |