Said I, his pathway checking:
“Oh! lift for me the basket-lid;
I’ll only humbly peer in
And see the blessed wax!” “Sakes! marm
Not wax, but only stearine!”
Oh! sparkle brightly, olive star,
In lamp inscribed with Latin:
“Sweet oil! whose unction—” “Guess not, marm:
The gas is turned on that ’un!”
“Devotion dims my pious view,