THE curate and churchwarden, And eke exciseman too, Have treated poor Tom Raban As if he was a Jew. For they have sent him packing, No more in church to work, Whatever may be lacking; As if he was a Turk. Thus carry they the farce on, Which is great cause of grief, Until that Page the parson Turn over a new leaf. Thus sings the muse, and though her fav'rite cue Is fiction, yet her song is sometimes true. |