Fancy his fright, When, with all his might Having forced up the lid, which they'd not fastened quite, Of the marble sarcophagus--"All in white" The dead Bishop started up, bolt upright On his hinder end,--and grasped him so tight, That the clutch of a kite, Or a bull-dog's bite When he's most provoked and in bitterest spite, May well be conceived in comparison slight, And having thus "tackled" him--blew out his light!! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The fright and the fear!-- No one to hear!--nobody near! In the dead of the night!--at a bad time of year!-- A defunct Bishop squatting upright on his bier, And shouting so loud, that the drum of his ear He thought would have split as these awful words met it-- "AH, HA! MY GOOD FRIEND!--DON'T YOU WISH YOU MAY GET IT?"-- Oh, dear! Oh, dear! _'Twas_ a night of fear! --I should just like to know, if the boldest man here, In his situation, would not have felt queer? The wretched man bawls, And he yells, and he squalls, But there's nothing responds to his shrieks save the walls, And the desk, and the pulpit, the pews, and the stalls. Held firmly at bay, Kick and plunge as he may, His struggles are fruitless--he can't get away, He really, can't tell what to do or to say, And being a Pagan, don't know how to pray; Till, through the east window, a few streaks of grey Announce the approach of the dawn of the day! Oh, a welcome sight Is the rosy light, Which lovelily heralds a morning bright, Above all to a wretch kept in durance all night By a horrid dead gentleman holding him tight,-- Of all sorts of gins that a trespasser can trap, The most disagreeable kind of a man-trap! --Oh! welcome that bell's Matin chime, which tells To one caught in this worst of all possible snares, That the hour is arrived to begin Morning Prayers, And the monks and the friars are coming down stairs! Conceive the surprise Of the Choir--how their eyes Are distended to twice their original size,-- How some begin bless,--some anathematize,-- And all look on the thief as Old Nick in disguise. While the mystified Abbot cries, "Well!--I declare!-- --This is really a very mysterious affair!-- Bid the bandy-legg'd Sexton go run for the May'r!"