|NOTES from DR SYNTAX'S TOUR, 1812|
Plate 10 opposite p.56:-
DOCTOR SYNTAX, MEDITATING ON THE TOMB STONES.
The Doctor, in canonic state,
Now op'd at once the churchyard-gate;
While Grizzle, too, thought fit to pass,
Who knew the taste of churchyard grass.
"Sir," cried the Sexton, "let me say
"That you must take your mare away,
"Or else, believe me, I am bound
"To lead her quickly to the pound."
"You do mistake, my honest friend -
"'Tis a foul wrong that you intend;
"A Parson's mare will claim a right
"In a churchyard to take a bite;
"And, as I'm come to meditate
"Among these signs of human fate,
"I beg you will not make a riot,
"But let the poor beast feed in quiet."
No more the conscious Sexton said,
Bt urg'd his labours for the dead;
"While Syntax cull'd, with critic care,
"What the sad Muse had written there.
Here lies poor Thomas and his wife
Who led a pretty jarring life;
But all is ended, do you see?
He holds his tongue, and so does she.
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