Lately was Parson Horseley seen;
Soberly walking to Hall Green,
Reluctantly his church to reach,
Where, once a week, was forc'd to preach.
Met by a friend--'Well, how d'ye do,
This Sunday road you still pursue,
Going your nostrums to unlock,
And dress once more your scabby flock.'
'Aye, d--n 'em' said the priest again,
But all my dressings are in vain;
For though I dress them e'er so clever,
Next week they want as bad as ever.'