"O THE pastor'd a sermon was splendid this mornin'," Said Nora O'Hare, "But there's some in the parish that must have had warnin' An' worshiped elsewhere; But wherever they were, if their ears wasn't burnin', Troth, then, it is quare!" "'There are women,' sez he, 'an' they're here in this parish, An' plentiful, too, Wid their noses so high an' their manners so airish, But virtues so few 'Tis a wonder they can't see how much they resemble The proud Pharisee. Ye would think they'd look into their own souls an' tremble Such sinners to be. Not at all! They believe themselves better than others, An' give themselves airs Till the pride o' them strangles all virtues, an' smothers The good o' their prayers.' "That's the way he wint at them, an', faith, it was splendid -- But wasted, I fear, Wid the most o' the women for whom 'twas intended, Not there for to hear. An' thinks I to meself, walkin' home, what a pity That Mary Ann Hayes An' Cordelia McCann should be out o' the city This day of all days. "But, indeed, 'twas a glorious sermon this mornin'," Said Nora O'Hare, "Though I'm sorry that some o' the parish had warnin' An' worshiped elsewhere; But wherever they were, if their ears wasn't burnin', Troth, then, it is quare!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOY OF WRITING by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA OF THE MEAN AND SURE ESTATE by THOMAS WYATT MEMORIAL VERSES by MATTHEW ARNOLD A FAREWELL TO FOLLY: CONTENT by ROBERT GREENE WHEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GOLDEN HILL by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG |