Classic Poem

Of course the Squire was Church — strict Church —
There was nothing else for he;
The Church was the only place, you know,
For to worship properly,
At any rate, for gentle folks
And people with property.

The Miller Penrose went forth to preach —
A Brianite " Local " was he.
" I can just go forth to tell the folks
Of the love of God to me;
It can't do nobody not no harm,
And may do some good, " said he.

The Sexton came up, and the Squire told:
" Aw, your honour, I've heerd 'em say,
That Miller Penrose goeth forth to preach
'Most every Sabbath Day.
And seemin' to me 'tis a terrible thing
For he to go on that way.

" 'Tis bad enough to stay home from church,
But 'tis dreadful, seemin' to me,
For a man like that to preach to folks —
A ignorant owl like he,
As never had no larnin' at all;
— Such things ought not for to be. "

" Indeed, " says the Squire, a-lookin' black,
" The Miller a preacher is he! "
" Iss fy, your honour, 'tis true enough,
And I hope your honour will see,
And put a stop to such ghastly ways;
'Tis terrible, seemin' to me. "

But now you must not go for to think
The Squire was that ill-bred
That he wanted the world to hold its tongue
'Till it 'greed with what he said,
And counted the narrow way was just
To follow where he led.

A gentleman born his honour was;
You might search the country round,
And a kinder-hearted man for sure,
There wasn't above the ground!
A fairer and squarer than Squire Tolcarne
There was not to be found.

But the words of the Sexton haunted en:
" Penrose a preacher " ! says he,
And it seemed to the Squire a serious thing
That an ignorant man like he
Should set hisself up for to tell the folks
What the way to heaven might be.

It wasn't long before Miller Penrose
Come up to the Squire's place;
He'd finished the talk he'd come about
When he seed by Squire's face
That something he'd done — he didn't know what —
Had brought a bit o' disgrace.

Then the Squire he shut the office door;
" Penrose, " the Squire began,
" I'm amazed to hear that the Brianites
Have put your name on the plan.
Now really, you know, you must admit
You're a terribly ignorant man. "

" Aw, terrible, iss, your honour, that's true,
If I don't knaw nawthen beside,
I do knaw I don't knaw nawthen, sir —
I wish it could be denied.
I can't make out them larned books
Though fine and often I've tried. "

" Well, well, now Miller, if that is so,
I really am bound to say,
It's an awful thing for you to try
To teach other folks the way.
Think what a solemn thing it would be
If you led a soul astray. "

" Well, Squire, forgive me, I've thought of that,
And there never passes a day
But with all my soul and strength I lift
My heart to God and pray
That He will give me His heavenly grace
For to teach me what to say. "

It chanced that the map of the Squire's estate
Lay there on the table spread;
The fields and woods all painted green,
The houses a staring red;
And there was marked each road and path,
And the places where they led.

Then a bit of a twinkle shone in his eye
As the Miller turned around,
" That the map of your estate, is it, sir?
You knaw it well, I'll be bound;
Of course, you're using it constantly,
And got to go over the ground. "

" Of course, of course, I know it by heart, "
Says the Squire. The Miller says he,
" You do knaw each road and waterway,
And where each path may be? "
" Of course, of course, " the Squire replied,
" I know it all perfectly. "

" Now, excuse me, Squire, I knaw you're one
To give a man fair play.
Can you mind when you was down to the mill —
'Twas only the other day —
You asked little Mary to come with you
And show your honour the way? "

" Oh, yes, " said the Squire, " she showed me the path
That turns in there by the gate;
I was very much obliged to her,
It led to the highway straight;
And but for the service she rendered me
I should have gone home late. "

" Well, now, your honour, 'tis like this here —
Or so it seems to me —
Little Mary would hardly knaw the name
Of what a map might be;
And certainly would not knaw 'pon the map
The place where she lives, you see.

" My Mary isn't a scholar, I'm 'fraid,
But excuse me if I say
That she was able to show you, sir,
The place where the footpath lay,
'Cause your honour knew it on the map,
But she walks in it every day.

" So, your honour, if I don't knaw the map
So well as some folks may,
I do thank God I knaw one thing —
That He has shown me the way;
And I trust by His grace I've found out how
To walk in it every day. "

So the days went by. The Squire he watched
And saw that the Miller was true,
And he heard of many a kindly deed
That the Miller used to do;
And how, when a bit of trouble came,
He would help a neighbour through.

And it chanced one day the Squire fell ill,
The Doctor sat by his bed:
" Now, Doctor, tell me just how it stands;
Am I going to die? " he said.
" I want you to tell me how it will go. "
But the Doctor shook his head.

" If I'm going to get well, I'm quite content
If the Vicar comes and goes;
But I tell you what I want to have
When my life draws near to its close —
I want my people to send and fetch
That good old Miller Penrose. "