The Cock he crew, Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Past five! the watchmen said;

And they went away, for while it was day

They might safely leave the dead.

The second night, by lantern light,

Through the church-yard as they went,

He whisper’d anew, and show’d them two,

That Mister Joseph sent.

The guineas were bright, and attracted their sight,

They look’d so heavy and new;

And their fingers itch’d as they were bewitch’d,

And they knew not what to do.

But they waver’d not long, for conscience was strong,

And they thought they might get more;

And they refused the gold, but not

So rudely as before.

So all night long, by the vestry fire,

They quaff’d their gin and ale;

And they did drink, as you may think,

And told full many a tale.

The third night, as, by lantern light,

Through the church-yard they went,

He bade them see, and show’d them three,

That Mister Joseph sent.

They look’d askance with greedy glance;

The guineas they shone bright;

For the Sexton on the yellow gold

Let fall his lantern light.

And he look’d sly with his roguish eye,

And gave a well-timed wink;

And they could not stand the sound in his hand

For he made the guineas chink.

And conscience, late that had such weight,

All in a moment fails;

For well they knew that it was true

A dead man tells no tales.

And they gave all their powder and ball,

And took the gold so bright;

And they drank their beer, and made good cheers,

Till now it was midnight.

Then, though the key of the church-door

Was left with the Parson, his brother,

It open’d at the Sexton’s touch,—

Because he had another.

And in they go, with that villain Joe,

To fetch the body by night;

And all the church look’d dismally

By his dark-lantern light.

They laid the pick-axe to the stones,

And they moved them soon asunder;

They shovell’d away the hard-press’d clay,

And came to the coffin under.

They burst the patent coffin first,

And they cut through the lead;

And they laugh’d aloud when they saw the shroud,

Because they had got at the dead.

And they allow’d the Sexton the shroud,

And they put the coffin back;

And nose and knees they then did squeeze;

The Surgeon in a sack.

The watchmen, as they pass’d along,

Full four yards off could smell,

And a curse bestow’d upon the load

So disagreeable.

So they carried the sack a-pick-a-back,

And they carved him bone from bone;

But what became of the Surgeon’s soul

Was never to mortal known.

Queen Mary’s Christening

The first wish of Queen Mary’s heart

Is, that she may bear a son,

Who shall inherit in his time

The kingdom of Aragon.

She hath put up prayers to all the Saints

This blessing to accord,

But chiefly she hath call’d upon

The Apostles of our Lord.

The second wish of Queen Mary’s heart

Is to have that son call’d James,

Because she thought for a Spanish King

‘Twas the best of all good names.

To give him this name of her own will

Is what may not be done,

For having applied to all the Twelve

She may not prefer the one.

By one of their names she hath vow’d to call

Her son, if son it should be;

But which, is a point whereon she must let

The Apostles themselves agree.

Already Queen Mary hath to them

Contracted a grateful debt,

And from their patronage she hoped

For these farther blessings yet.

Alas! it was not her hap to be

As handsome as she was good;

And that her husband King Pedro thought so