"He plays the airy flute,
 And looks depressed and blighted,
Doves round about him 'toot,'
 And lambkins dance delighted.

"He labours more than you
 At worsted work, and frames it;
In old maids' albums, too,
 Sticks seaweed—yes, and names it!"
 
The tempter said his say,
 Which pierced him like a needle—
He summoned straight away
 His sexton and his beadle.

(These men were men who could
 Hold liberal opinions:
On Sundays they were good—
 On week-days they were minions.)