Poem: III



The Abbot for a walk went out,
A wealthy cleric, very stout,
And Robin has that Abbot stuck
As the red hunter spears the buck.
The djavel or the javelin
Has, you observe, gone bravely in,
And you may hear that weapon whack
Bang through the middle of his back.
HENCE WE MAY LEARN THAT ABBOTS SHOULD
NEVER GO WALKING IN A WOOD.



Poem: IV



The frozen peaks he once explored,
But now he's dead and by the board.
How better far at home to have stayed
Attended by the parlour maid,
And warmed his knees before the fire
Until the hour when folks retire!
SO, IF YOU WOULD BE SPARED TO FRIENDS,
DO NOTHING BUT FOR BUSINESS ENDS.