From whence the neighbouring farmer calls
The steeple, Knock; the vicar, Walls[1].
The vicar once a week creeps in,
Sits with his knees up to his chin;
Here cons his notes, and takes a whet,
Till the small ragged flock is met.
A traveller, who by did pass,
Observ'd the roof behind the grass:
On tiptoe stood, and rear'd his snout,
And saw the parson creeping out;
Was much surpris'd to see a crow
Venture to build his nest so low.
A schoolboy ran unto 't and thought,
The crib was down, the blackbird caught.
A third, who lost his way by night,
Was forc'd for safety to alight,
And stepping o'er the fabrick roof,
His horse had like to spoil his hoof.
Warburton[2] took it in his noddle,
This building was design'd a model;
Or of a pigeon-house or oven,
To bake one loaf, and keep one dove in.
Then Mrs. Johnson[3] gave her verdict,
And every one was pleased that heard it:
All that you make this stir about
Is but a still which wants a spout.
The reverend Dr. Raymond[4] guess'd
More probably than all the rest;
He said, but that it wanted room,
It might have been a pigmy's tomb.
The
