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Priests of Argand; guards of Roll;
And ye grisly hanged men all,
Who renew your vital flame
'Neath the kiss of a beldame;
Caliban, Macduff, Pistol;
Ye Zingari, horde of evil,
In whose train dark crimes befall;
Say, which is the greater devil,
Is't old Nick, or is't old Noll?
Of all the serpents Satan rears
Which is the serpent he prefers?
The aspic to the deaf addérs,
Good old Nick to the aspic,
And good old Noll to good old Nick.
Old Nick is Satan's left eye,
And old Noll, he's his right;
Old Nick is shrewd and deft, he,
And old Noll's no clumsy wight;
And Beelzebub in his flight doth prick
From old Noll to good old Nick.
When the twain go forth to ride,
Death with his scythe is close beside.
Hell doth furnish the relay;
And both of the two, without delay,
Spring to their trusty chargers' backs;
Nick on a broom-stick rides away,
And Noll on the handle of an axe.
To conclude this roundelay:—
Ere he seeks a hermit's cell,
May I—for he deserves it well—
Live to see old Noll in public
Carried off by the old Nick.
Or, to wring his neck and end it all,
Old Nick call upon old Noll!