However, all a duty paid for priestly absolution,
According to the culprit's sex, rank, purse, or constitution.
Such was the pleasant state of things, some centuries ago,
With holy men throughout the land and jolly Father Joe.
"A round, fat, oily man of God," as ever sang a psalm,
Or closed a penitential fee devoutly in his palm,
Was Father Joe; and he also, when psalms and prayers were done,
In festive scene, with smile serene, aye cheerfully made one.
Fond of a jest, he'd do his best good-humour to provoke,
Fill up his glass, extol some lass, and crack some convent joke;
Nor heed the frown or looks cast down of atrabilious friars,
Till his gills grew red, and his laughing head look'd a rose amid the briers.
Right well he knew each roast and stew, and chose the choicest dishes,
And the bill of fare, as well as prayer, with its venison, game, and fishes;
Were he living now he might, I vow, with his culinary knowledge,
Have writ a book, or been a cook, or fellow of a college.
In those old days the wealthy knew such qualities to prize,
And our good priest much favour found in lords' and ladies' eyes;
For seldom in their ancient halls a sumptuous feast was dressing,
But Father Joe that way would go thereon to "ask a blessing."
When lords and ladies bade their guests to castles, halls, and towers,
Though every thing beside was good they seldom kept good hours;
Course after course slow marshall'd in with dignity and state,
Their prime repasts were apt to last sometimes till rather late.
And Father Joe esteem'd it rude to break a party up,
Indeed, it was his usual plan, where'er he dined to sup;
And then to take what modern rakes sometimes "a nightcap" call—
That is, a friendly parting glass, a sort of "over-all."
He used to say it kept at bay the night-air, cold, and damp,
And cheer'd him on his journey home as though it were a lamp;
Nought cared he then how black the clouds might gather overhead,
His heart felt brave as he humm'd a stave and boldly onward sped.
So Father Joe his course pursued—a pleasant mode of living;
Alternately at prayers and feasts—now taking, now forgiving;
But dark or light, by day or night, the great thing to be said is,
Where'er he went he ne'er forgot due homage to the ladies.
By this it is not meant that he knelt down to living beauty—
A deed forbidden and eschew'd by priests who mind their duty;
His were not walking, breathing belles, to monkish rules contrary,
But images of wood and wax, dress'd like the Virgin Mary.