Part 4 — THE CURE'S PROGRESS

Monsieur the Cure down the street Comes with his kind old face,— With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair, And his green umbrella-case.

You may see him pass by the little "Grande Place", And the tiny "Hotel-de-Ville"; He smiles, as he goes, to the fleuriste Rose, And the pompier Theophile.

He turns, as a rule, through the "Marche" cool, Where the noisy fish-wives call; And his compliment pays to the "Belle Therese", As she knits in her dusky stall.

There's a letter to drop at the locksmith's shop, And Toto, the locksmith's niece, Has jubilant hopes, for the Cure gropes In his tails for a pain d'epice.

There's a little dispute with a merchant of fruit, Who is said to be heterodox, That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui!" And a pinch from the Cure's box.

There is also a word that no one heard To the furrier's daughter Lou.; And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red, And a "Ben Dieu garde M'sieu'!"

But a grander way for the Sous-Prefet, And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne; And a mock "off-hat" to the Notary's cat, And a nod to the Sacristan:—

For ever through life the Cure goes With a smile on his kind old face— With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair, And his green umbrella-case.

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]