He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk.
And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder
Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder.
St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass,
When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass.
'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried,
'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!'
'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see,
The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.'
'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit,