But munched the Cod--and little Kit
Quite feasted on the Shrimps!

The thing was odd, and minus Cod
And sauce, they stood like posts;
Oh, prudent folks, for fear of hoax,
Put no belief in Ghosts!


THE INGOLDSBY PENANCE: RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM

_A Legend of Palestine and West Kent_

Out and spake Sir Ingoldsby Bray,
A stalwart knight, I ween, was he,
"Come east, come west, Come lance in rest,
Come falchion in hand, I'll tickle the best
Of the Soldan's Chivalrie!"

Oh, they came west, and they came east,
Twenty-four Emirs and Sheiks at the least,
And they hammer'd away At Sir Ingoldsby Bray,
Fall back, fall edge, cut, thrust, and point,--
But he topp'd off head, and he lopp'd off joint;
Twenty and three, Of high degree,
Lay stark and stiff on the crimson'd lea,
All--all save one--and he ran up a tree!
"Now count them, my Squire, now count them and see!"
"Twenty and three! Twenty and three!--
All of them nobles of high degree: