THE DEVIL & PARSON CHURCH; OR, Birds of a Feather.

Old Lucifer came on earth one day, When he was in merry plight, To look for a meal of dainty prey, To pamper his appetite!

He stalk’d thro’ the courts of law, but grinn’d To find stale picking was there; For his maw both BENCH and BAR had thinn’d, And all look’d devilish bare.

He walk’d up the Park, and down the MELL, To catch some rare rich sinner, Whom he might drag on his horns to hell, And pick his bones for dinner.

But nought was there but a bawd or two, Scatter’d along the benches. Whose visages look’d most BLEACH’D and BLUE, For none would buy their wenches.

He went to the mansions round about, And just by way of frolic, He pinch’d this courtier’s toe with the gout, And gave to that the cholic.

Yet thro’ the circle he found not one, But still his chops kept licking; No morsel of meat—no tempting bone That could deserve his picking.

Then over Westminster bridge he trudged, Clad in his murky jacket, And swore that before he homeward budg’d, He’d still kick up a racket

He came to a place by wits y’clep’d Fields, though no grass was growing, Where flocks of Cyprians alone are kept, Seeds of disaster sowing.

And into a chapel here he popp’d That head of his so prying, And anxious to hear what pass’d there, stopp’d Attracted by the sighing.

And there he beheld, with strait comb’d locks, And eyes with ardour filling, A KNAVE, who rock’d like one in the stocks, And spoke in strains most killing.

As soon as the DE’EL the wight discern’d, And saw what he was after, Altho’ to mince the VILLAIN he burn’d, Had well nigh burst with laughter.

Up to the pulpit he straightway went With face as bold as Turpin; Quoth he to himself—“Sure heav’n ne’er meant Such place for thee to chirp in!”

He ask’d of the Clerk the Parson’s name, “Church!” quoth the amen-grinder; “A saint he is of unequall’d fame, A staunch game gospel-finder!”

“I’ll plumb his depth:” the devil then quoth, And up the steps he mounted, And as he march’d up, the Clerk most loth, Shook, as his steps he counted.

He mounted the steps, the Parson’s eye Soon glanc’d the Demon coming, But he felt not frighten’d, coy nor shy, But still kept on his strumming.

The FIEND suggested, the sermon done, They should to a rendezvous, Where they might each have a taste of fun, With an Adonis or two.

Now Church who us’d from his infancy, In such things to be dabbling, Squeez’d the fiend’s fist, and wink’d his eye, And then cut short his gabbling.

Away they went, as the DEV’L had said, Both arm in arm together, And up to the place of meeting sped, Like horses to their tether.

And then the frolic and fun began, And heav’n look’d on with sorrow, And sigh’d that man should make beast of man As ’erst in vile Gomorrah!

Now the DEV’L had set his net so well To catch the PIOUS GUDGEON, That into the MESH he promptly fell, Flound’ring in doleful DUDGEON.

And then the DEVIL relax’d his claw, And left him melancholy, Within the clutches of Mister Law, To trounce him for his folly.

Off flew the DEV’L to hell to prepare His FRYING-PAN and DRIPPING, To fry the FLAT when he got him there, Whom he had just caught tripping.

And now good people with one accord, Who us’d to hear him praying, Go get a new priest, and ask the Lord To keep the knave from straying.