their fingers itch’d as they were bewitch’d And they knew not what to do. But they waver’d not long for conscience was strong And they thought they might get more, And they refused the gold, but not So rudely as before. So all night long by the vestry fire They quaff’d their gin and ale, And they did drink as you may think And told full many a tale. The third night as by lanthorn light Thro’ the church-yard they went, He bade them see and shew’d them three That Mister Joseph sent. They look’d askance with eager glance, The guineas they shone bright, For the Sexton on the yellow gold Let fall his lanthorn light. And he look’d sly with his roguish eye And gave a well-tim’d wink, And they could not stand the sound in his hand For he made the guineas chink. And conscience late that had such weight, All in a moment fails, For well they knew that it was true A dead man told no tales, And they gave all their powder and ball And took the gold so bright, And they drank their beer and made good cheer, Till now it was midnight. Then, tho’ the key of the church door Was left with the Parson his brother, It opened at the Sexton’s touch— Because he had another. And in they go with that villain Joe To fetch the body by night, And all the church look’d dismally By his dark lanthorn light. They laid the pick-axe to the stones And they moved them soon asunder. They shovell’d away the hard-prest clay And came to the coffin under. They burst the patent coffin first And they cut thro’ the lead, And they laugh’d aloud when they saw the shroud Because they had got at the dead. And they allowed the Sexton the shroud And they put the coffin back, And nose and knees they then did squeeze The Surgeon in a sack. The watchmen as they past along Full four yards off could smell, And a curse bestowed upon the load So disagreeable. So they carried the sack a-pick-a-back And they carv’d him bone from bone, But what became of the Surgeon’s soul Was never to mortal known. 

 

The Victory

 Hark—how the church-bells thundering harmony Stuns the glad ear! tidings of joy have come, Good tidings of great joy! two gallant ships Met on the element,—they met, they fought A desperate fight!—good tidings of great joy! Old England triumphed! yet another day Of glory for the ruler of the waves! For those who fell, ’twas in their country’s cause, They have their passing paragraphs of praise And are forgotten. There was one who died In that day’s glory, whose obscurer name No proud historian’s page will chronicle. Peace to his honest soul! I read his name, ’Twas in the list of slaughter, and blest God The sound was not familiar to mine ear. But it was told me after that this man Was one 

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