Then he entered the porch in an imp-ious way, Declaring the nave should be spelt with a K; He roamed through each transept, he strolled in each aisle, Then he thought in the choir he would romp for a while. As he passed 'neath the rood no obeisance he made; No rev'rence at all to the altar he paid; He thumbed all the canons' and choristers' books, And cast on the saints his most insolent looks; The chalice and patens were safe in a box, He was stopped in the act of unpicking the locks. He hacked at the lectern and chopped at the stalls; The tapestry tore from the sanctified walls; Incensed against incense, the thuribles he Demolished; the candlesticks broke on his knee. [Illustration: The candlesticks broke on his knee.] Then seeing some angels he cried, "Pretty things, "A sackful of feathers I'll pluck from your wings "To make me a couch when I'm tired of this joke," Ah! soon he was sorry that rudely he spoke; For the tiniest angel, with amethyst eyes And hair like spun gold, 'fore the altar did rise, Pronouncing these words in a dignified tone "O impious Imp, be ye turned into stone!" So he was, as you'll see when to Lincoln you stray: And the wind has been waiting outside till this day. You can't see the wind, but no matter for that Believe, or he'll rob you of cloak or of hat. [Illustration: He'll rob you of cloak or of hat.] MORAL This moral, I trust, you'll deduce from my lay-- If ever you're minded the mischief to play. Be sure that you're able the "needful" to find, In other words, certain of "raising the wind"; And then, when you're bent upon "going the pace," Don't count on the wind, or I pity your case. There are bikes at your service, and motors galore. Steam, gas, and electric machines by the score; Again, if for skittish amusement you search. Don't meddle, I pray, with affairs of the church. The puppets of politics--all will admit-- Are legitimate sport for exuberant wit; But if ever a trick on the clergy you play, You'll speedily find there's the "dickens to pay." [Illustration: There are bikes at your service, and motors galore.] To angels--when met--be extremely polite, Attentions too forward they'll keenly requite; Don't ruffle their feathers; just let them alone. Else, if you're converted, 'twill be into stone; Don't chum with low people, unruly and bold. And be left, when they've done with you, "out in the cold." Don't be far too clever; but seek to be good, And when you're at Lincoln behave as you should: Step into the Minster the Imp to behold. Who points to the truth of the tale that I've told. So visit old Lindum, a city most rare; Of course take a ticket, and pay the due fare! [Illustration: Of course take a ticket, and pay the due fare!] [Illustration: THE ANGEL CHOIR, LINCOLN CATHEDRAL The Imp is on the last column but one] [Illustration: THE SOUTH PORCH, LINCOLN CATHEDRAL]