And a woman or two to pet you, and you never gave way to despair,
You might sell it at so much a line—but that’s quite another affair.
Why in the midst of your whines it’s impossible not to see
How anxious you are to show that you’re only attacking me,
And that you’ve not a word to say against respectable people
Who own no connection between my chapel and their church-steeple.
You always contrive to hint, and almost seem to feel
That your creed would have been much better if your Church had been more genteel.
Why, man, we’re all in one boat, as every one can see,
Bishops and priests and deacons, and poor little ranters like me.