“The Bishop and the Dean came wi’ mickle gravity,
Right smooth and sleek, but lordly pride was lurking in their e’e;
Their full lawn sleeves were blown and big, like seals in briny pool;
They bore a book, but little thought they soon should feel a stool.
With a row-dow—yes, I trow!—they’ll feel a four-legged stool!
“The Dean he to the altar went, and wi’ a solemn look,
He cast his eyes to heaven, then read a curious-printed book:
In Jenny’s heart the blood upwelled with bitter anguish full;
Sudden she started to her legs, and stoutly grasped the stool!
With a row-dow—at them now!—firmly grasp the stool!