Thus impious, they jokèd devoid of all grace,
When dread sounds shook the walls of the church,
And lo! Dumby sank down, and a ghost in his place
Shrieked dismal “Haste! haste! save your lurch!”
Astounded they stared; but the fiend disappeared
And Dumby again took his seat,
So they deemed ’twas but fancy, nor longer they feared
But swore that “Old Dumb should be beat.”
Eight to nine was the game, Dumby’s partner called loud
“Speak once, my old friend, or we’re done