Page 87 - Graveyard

G r av e y ar d H u m o r | 85

Their beer was strong, their wine was port,
Their meal was large, their grace was short.
They gave the poor the remnant meat,
Just when it grew not fit to eat.
They paid the church and parish rate,
And took, but read not, the receipt;
For which they claim’d their Sundays’ due
Of slumbering in an upper pew.
No man’s defects sought they to know,
So never made themselves a foe.
No man’s good deeds did they commend,
So never rais’d themselves a friend.
Nor cherish’d they relations poor,
That might decrease their present store;
Nor barn nor house did they repair,
That might oblige their future heir.
They neither wanted nor abounded.
Nor tear nor smile did they employ
At news of public grief or joy.
When bells were rung and bonfires made,
If ask’d, they ne’er denied their aid.
Their jug was to the ringers carried,
Whoever either died or married.
Their billet at the fire was found,
Whoever was depos’d or crown’d.
Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise,
They would not learn, nor could advise;
Without love, hatred, joy, or fear,
They led a kind of, as it were;
Nor wish’d, nor car’d, nor laugh’d, nor cried,
And so they lived and so they died.

238. On an Accomplished Parish Officer, at Crayford, Kent:—

Here lieth the body of
Peter Isnell
(30 years Clerk of this parish).