The cock doth crow;
It is time for the Fisher to rise and go.
Fair luck to the Abbot, fair luck to the shrine!
He hath gnawed in twain my choicest line;
Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south,
The Abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!"
The Abbot had preached for many years
With as clear articulation
As ever was heard in the House of Peers
Against Emancipation;