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Yet in honour of fasting, one lean face
Among you I'd always require ; If the abbot should please, he may wear it,
If not, let it come to the prior."
Come, let each take his chalice, my brethren,
And with due devotion prepare, With hands and with voices uplifted
Our hymn to conclude with a prayer. May this chapter oft joyously meet,
And this gladsome libation renew, To the saint, and the founder, and abbot,
The prior, and monks of the Screw !
By William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-63)
Some love the matin-chimes, which tell
The hour of prayer to sinner ; But better far's the midday bell,
Which speaks the hour of dinner ; For when I see a smoking fish,
Or capon drowned in gravy, Or noble haunch on silver dish,
Full glad I sing my Ave.
My pulpit is an alehouse bench,
Whereon I sit so jolly; A smiling rosy country wench, My saint and patron holy.