I've had the same before,
And, with a little medicine,
No doubt 'twill soon be o'er.

"Run, Peter, run for Bonny Gray,
Nor tarry till you find him;
I've often heard his own or say
He'd carry all behind him."

The carriage stands before the door;
They enter--one, two, three;
The deacon says, "There's room for more--
Enough for Parson G."

The parson was a portly man--
The deacon loved to joke;
But afterwards, as it befell,
Was sorry that he spoke.

They move to join the gathering throng
Within the house of prayer.
Now ceased the bell its solemn peal--
The deacon was not there.

Where was he, then? Perhaps you'll say
In easy chair reclining,
The glimmer of his spectacles,
Upon his Bible shining.

Ah, no! See you that earnest man,