"Beneath that heavy paving-stone a shocking hole they found-- It was not more than twelve feet deep, and barely twelve feet round; --A fleshless, sapless skeleton lay in that horrid well! But who the deuce 'twas put it there those Masons could not tell. "And near this fleshless skeleton a pitcher small did lie, And a mouldy piece of 'kissing crust,' as from a warden-pie! And Doctor Jones declared the bones were female bones and, 'Zooks! I should not be surprised,' said he, 'if these were Nelly Cook's!' "It was in good Dean Bargrave's days, if I remember right, Those fleshless bones beneath the stones these Masons brought to light; And you may well in the 'Dean's Chapelle' Dean Bargrave's portrait view, 'Who died one night,' says old Tom Wright, 'in sixteen forty-two!' "And so two hundred years have passed since that these Masons three, With curious looks, did set Nell Cook's unquiet spirit free; That granite stone had kept her down till then--so some suppose,-- --Some spread their fingers out, and put their thumb unto their nose. "But one thing's clear--that all the year on every Friday night, Throughout that Entry dark doth roam Nell Cook's unquiet Sprite: On Friday was that Warden-pie all by that Canon tried; On Friday died he, and that tidy Lady by his side! "And though two hundred years have flown, Nell Cook doth still pursue Her weary walk, and they who cross her path the deed may rue; Her fatal breath is fell as death! the Simoom's blast is not More dire--(a wind in Africa that blows uncommon hot). "But all unlike the Simoom's blast, her breath is deadly cold, Delivering quivering, shivering shocks unto both young and old, And whoso in that Entry dark doth feel that fatal breath, He ever dies within the year some dire, untimely death! "No matter who--no matter what condition, age, or sex, But some 'get shot,' and some 'get drown'd,' and some 'get' broken necks; Some 'get run over' by a coach;--and one beyond the seas 'Got' scraped to death with oyster-shells among the Caribbees! "Those Masons three, who set her free, fell first!--it is averred That two were hang'd on Tyburn tree for murdering of the third: Charles Storey,[37] too, his friend who slew, had ne'er, if truth they tell, Been gibbeted on Chartham Downs, had they not met with Nell! "Then send me not, mine Uncle dear, oh! send me not, I pray, Back through that Entry dark to-night, but round some other way! I will not be a truant boy, but good, and mind my book, For Heaven forfend that ever I foregather with Nell Cook!" * * * * * The class was call'd at morning tide, and Master Tom was there; He look'd askew, and did eschew both stool, and bench, and chair. He did not talk, he did not walk, the tear was in his eye,-- He had not e'en that sad resource, to sit him down and cry.