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THE JACKDAW sat on the Cardinals chair! | |
Bishop and abbot and prior were there; | |
Many a monk, and many a friar, | |
Many a knight, and many a squire, | |
With a great many more of lesser degree, | 5 |
In sooth, a goodly company; | |
And they servd the Lord Primate on bended knee. | |
Never, I ween, | |
Was a prouder seen, | |
Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, | 10 |
Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims! | |
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In and out | |
Through the motley rout, | |
That little Jackdaw kept hopping about; | |
Here and there | 15 |
Like a dog in a fair, | |
Over comfits and cates, | |
And dishes and plates, | |
Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, | |
Mitre and crosier! he hoppd upon all! | 20 |
With a saucy air, | |
He perchd on the chair | |
Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, | |
In the great Lord Cardinals great red hat; | |
And he peerd in the face | 25 |
Of his Lordships Grace, | |
With a satisfied look, as if he would say, | |
We two are the greatest folks here to-day! | |
And the priests, with awe, | |
As such freaks they saw, | 30 |
Said, The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw! | |
The feast was over, the board was cleard, | |
The flawns and the custards had all disappeard, | |
And six little Singing-boys,dear little souls! | |
In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles, | 35 |
Came in order due, | |
Two by two, | |
Marching that grand refectory through. | |
A nice little boy held a golden ewer, | |
Embossd and filld with water, as pure | 40 |
As any that flows between Rheims and Namur, | |
Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch | |
In a fine golden hand-basin made to match. | |
Two nice little boys, rather more grown, | |
Carried lavender-water and eau-de-Cologne; | 45 |
And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, | |
Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope. | |
One little boy more | |
A napkin bore, | |
Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, | 50 |
And a Cardinals hat markd in permanent ink. | |
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The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight | |
Of these nice little boys dressd all in white: | |
From his finger he draws | |
His costly turquoise; | 55 |
And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, | |
Deposits it straight | |
By the side of his plate, | |
While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait; | |
Till, when nobodys dreaming of any such thing, | 60 |
That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring! | |
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There s a cry and a shout, | |
And a deuce of a rout, | |
And nobody seems to know what they re about, | |
But the monks have their pockets all turnd inside out; | 65 |
The friars are kneeling, | |
And hunting, and feeling | |
The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. | |
The Cardinal drew | |
Off each plum-colord shoe, | 70 |
And left his red stockings exposd to the view: | |
He peeps, and he feels | |
In the toes and the heels; | |
They turn up the dishes,they turn up the plates, | |
They take up the poker and poke out the grates, | 75 |
They turn up the rugs, | |
They examine the mugs: | |
But no!no such thing; | |
They cant find THE RING! | |
And the Abbot declard that, when nobody twiggd it, | 80 |
Some rascal or other had poppd in and priggd it! | |
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The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, | |
He calld for his candle, his bell, and his book: | |
In holy anger, and pious grief, | |
He solemnly cursd that rascally thief! | 85 |
He cursd him at board, he cursd him in bed, | |
From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head! | |
He cursd him in sleeping, that every night | |
He should dream of the devil, and wake in a fright; | |
He cursd him in eating, he cursd him in drinking, | 90 |
He cursd him in coughing, in sneezing, in winking; | |
He cursd him in sitting, in standing, in lying; | |
He cursd him in walking, in riding, in flying; | |
He cursd him in living, he cursd him in dying! | |
Never was heard such a terrible curse! | 95 |
But what gave rise | |
To no little surprise, | |
Nobody seemd one penny the worse! | |
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The day was gone, | |
The night came on, | 100 |
The monks and the friars they searchd till dawn; | |
When the sacristan saw, | |
On crumpled claw, | |
Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw. | |
No longer gay, | 105 |
As on yesterday; | |
His feathers all seemd to be turnd the wrong way; | |
His pinions droopdhe could hardly stand, | |
His head was as bald as the palm of your hand; | |
His eye so dim, | 110 |
So wasted each limb, | |
That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, | |
THAT S HIM! | |
That s the scamp that has done this scandalous thing! | |
That s the thief that has got my Lord Cardinals Ring! | 115 |
The poor little Jackdaw, | |
When the monks he saw, | |
Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw; | |
And turnd his bald head, as much as to say, | |
Pray, be so good as to walk this way! | 120 |
Slower and slower | |
He limpd on before, | |
Till they came to the back of the belfry-door, | |
Where the first thing they saw, | |
Midst the sticks and the straw, | 125 |
Was the RING, in the nest of that little Jackdaw. | |
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Then the great Lord Cardinal calld for his book, | |
And off that terrible curse he took; | |
The mute expression | |
Servd in lieu of confession, | 130 |
And, being thus coupled with full restitution, | |
The Jackdaw got plenary absolution! | |
When those words were heard, | |
That poor little bird | |
Was so changed in a moment, t was really absurd. | 135 |
He grew sleek and fat; | |
In addition to that, | |
A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat. | |
His tail waggled more | |
Even than before; | 140 |
But no longer it waggd with an impudent air, | |
No longer he perchd on the Cardinals chair. | |
He hoppd now about | |
With a gait devout; | |
At matins, at vespers, he never was out; | 145 |
And, so far from any more pilfering deeds, | |
He always seemd telling the Confessors beads. | |
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If any one lied, or if any one swore, | |
Or slumberd in prayr-time and happend to snore, | |
That good Jackdaw | 150 |
Would give a great Caw! | |
As much as to say, Dont do so any more! | |
While many remarkd, as his manners they saw, | |
That they never had known such a pious Jackdaw! | |
He long livd the pride | 155 |
Of that country side, | |
And at last in the odor of sanctity died; | |
When, as words were too faint | |
His merits to paint, | |
The Conclave determind to make him a Saint; | 160 |
And on newly-made Saints and Popes, as you know, | |
It s the custom, at Rome, new names to bestow, | |
So they canonizd him by the name of Jem Crow! | |
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