But the cracks in the sides o’ their tie-ups are
wide as the door o’ their pew,
And the winter comes in there a-howlin’, with
the sleet and the snow peltin’ through.
Step in there, sir, ary a mornin’ and look at their
critters! ’Twould seem
As if they were bilers or engines, and all o’
them chock full o’ steam.
I’ve got an old-fashioned religion that calkalates
Sundays for rest,