mostly required by unfortunates of the convict class, in assignment and expirees, his kind-heartedness in what he did cannot be too highly appreciated, though at the present day it will doubtless be sneered at by those w h o can have no conception of the horrors and privations attending the early convictism of the neighbouring colony. I subjoin the Graves' effusion, with the remark that any modicum of literary merit that m a y be displayed, is sadly marred by the sarcastically offensive bigotry indulged in towards other Christian denominations :— "BOB PINCHKR AND TIIE PONY." THE
D O G G E R E L B Y PINCHER.
'Bob Pincher and the p o n y " — a s Gregson used to say, W h e r e sickness was you found him there—to sympathize and pray; T h e bottle's neck seen peeping out—you m a y readily divine His mission's one of mercy—and he carries with him wine. This fine old English Clergyman—one of the " good old sort," W h o , when he visited the sick, he brought them all to port ; A n d , by the sick bed kneeling, would utter words divine, Then cheerfully rising, s a y — " N o w take a glass of wine ; It's better for your stomach's sake—than wafers and cold water ; For good old Port and solid food will surely m a k e you fatter." N o whining, doubtful d o g m a s — n o brimstone fire and hell— H e preached God's love and mercy—and kindly wished them well; This fine old English Clergyman—one of the olden time, W h o , when he visited the sick—he always took them wine. H e wore no cross upon his back, but acted on the square— A thing that's often talked about—but practised very rare ; H e dressed not like a mountebank—nor yet like columbine, Nor ritualistic vestments wore—this worthy old divine. If gaudy dresses were to be true signs of what was meet, Priests soon would m a k e the surplice, the Church's winding sheet ; So thought this good old Clergyman—one of the olden time, W h o , when he visited the sick, he always took them wine. If rampant ritualists will wear—silks, satins, and brocade, They'd better change their uniform—and join the Pope's brigade; For in the ranks of Protestants—they're called the " a w k w a r d squad, A n d looked upon by Churchmen—as the cast-out of God. Yet Popish priests and Protestants—their cant is " loving brother," A n d in Christ's n a m e — O h ! what a shame—they'd crucify each other : So 'tween the doctrines of the t w o — n o mortal soul can tell, Which is the road to H e a v e n — a n d that which leads to Hell. But this fine old English Clergyman—drew doctrines from the Fount, A n d prayed, as the Great Teacher did—in His sermon on the Mount ; This fine old English Clergyman—one of the olden time, W h o when he visited the sick - h e always took them wine. H e had no crook to guard his flock—or keep them in the fold, 'But tended them as shepherds did. in the by-gone days of old ; But 'bout the preaching now-a-days—-there is a deal of g a m m o n , Still less of that there'd surely be—but for the G o d call'd M a m m o n . Apostle Peter never asked for pence, State-aid, or pay, If such were n o w the state of things—how many Priests would pray? N o w shepherds don't much mind the sheep—their eye is on the fleece, A n d rather than no wool at all—they'd take it in the grease; But better days are dawning fast—there's shout from pole to pole, For liberty of conscience—and freedom of the soul. Then let us chronicle the words—spoke by the old divine, A n d to his m e m o r y let us drink—now ' Take a glass of wine ;' That fine old English Clergyman—one of the olden time, W h o when he visited the sick—he always took them wine."
