THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY.

I am a friar of orders grey: As down the valley I take my way, I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip, Good store of venison does fill my scrip: My long bead-roll I merrily chaunt, Where’er I walk, no money I want; And why I’m so plump the reason I’ll tell— Who leads a good life is sure to live well. What baron or squire Or knight of the shire Lives half so well as a holy friar! After supper, of heaven I dream, But that is fat pullet and clouted cream. Myself, by denial, I mortify With a dainty bit of a warden pie: I’m clothed in sackcloth for my sin: With old sack wine I’m lined within: A chirping cup is my matin song, And the vesper bell is my bowl’s ding dong. What baron or squire Or knight of the shire Lives half so well as a holy friar! John O’Keeffe (1747–1833).