A little fellow, black his gear;

Sharp as the blast which blew him here.[12]

His fine-spun coat, as good as new,

His trowsers—wide enough for two.

His cheek-bones and his jaws declare

Oat-cake has been his daily fare.

The hat he bought for ordination,

New-brushed, he sports on this occasion.

His dress though threadbare, now ’tis wet,

Looks fresh, and good, and black as jet.[13]