Classic Poem

A COUNTRY parson took a notion
Into his head, one Whitsuntide,
That it was more like true devotion
To preach extempore; — he tried:
Succeeded once — twice — thrice — but, lo!
His fourth discourse was not forthcoming;
Spite of his hawing and his humming,
Not a word further could he go;
So that the worthy man perforce
Was fain to leave them in the lurch,
And say, that, since he came to church,
He'd lost the thread of his discourse.

Whereat a man below exclaim'd,
" Lock the doors, beadle! search us round,
All, every one, until it's found:
The thief should really be ashamed —
Here are my pockets — ransack both!
I have it not, I'll take my oath. "