And his Cardinals three they picked up his crown.

"Now if it be so that you own you've been wrong,
And your heart is so stout and your arm is so strong,
And you really will fight like a trump all day long;--
If the Ingoldsby lands do lie here and there,
And Holy Church shall come in for her share,--
Why, my Cardinals three, You'll agree With me,
That it gives a new turn to the whole affair,
And I think that the Penitent need not despair!
--If it be so, as you seem to say,
Rise up, rise up, Sir Ingoldsby Bray!
An Abbey so fair Sir Bray shall found,
Whose innermost wall's encircling bound
Shall take in a couple of acres of ground;
And there in that Abbey, all the year round,
A full choir of monks and a full choir of nuns,
And Sir Ingoldsby Bray, Without delay,
Shall hie him again To Ascalon plain,
And gather the bones of the foully slain;
And shall place said bones, with all possible care,
In an elegant shrine in his abbey so fair;
And plenty of lights shall be there o' nights--
None of your rascally 'dips,' but sound,
Best superfine wax-wicks, four to the pound;
And Monk and Nun Shall pray, each one,
For the soul of the Prior of Abingdon!

And Sir Ingoldsby Bray, so bold and so brave,
Never shall wash himself, comb or shave,