Prince, you have horses: motors, I suppose,
As well! At finding pleasure you’re no fool.
But have you got a little boat that blows
Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool?
SONG OF MINSTERWORTH
Air: “The Vicar of Bray”
In olden, olden centuries
On Gloucester’s holy ground, sir,
The monks did pray and chant all day,
And grow exceeding round, sir;