To mix more water in your gin.
We're neither saints nor Philip Sidneys,
But mortal men with mortal kidneys.'
He took his snuff, and wheezed a greeting,
And waddled off to mothers' meeting;
I hung my head upon my chest,
I give old purple parson best.
For while the Plough tips round the Pole
The trained mind outs the upright soul,
As Jesus said the trained mind might,