“You’ve been months over that song,” said the Professor. “Isn’t it finished yet?”
“There be only one verse more,” the Gardener sadly replied. And, with tears streaming down his cheeks, he sang the last verse:—
“He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
‘A fact so dread,’ he faintly said,
‘Extinguishes all hope!’”
Choking with sobs, the Gardener hastily stepped on a few yards ahead of the party, to conceal his emotion.
“Did he see the Bar of Mottled Soap?” Sylvie enquired, as we followed.