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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT

First Line: I MARCHED THREE MILES THROUGH SCORCHING SAND
Last Line: WHAT MORTAL ELSE COULD E'ER GO THROUGH IT!
Subject(s): CLERGY; PRIESTS; RABBIS; MINISTERS; BISHOPS;

I marched three miles through scorching sand,
With zeal in heart, and notes in hand;
I rode four more to great St Mary;
Using four legs when two were weary.
To three fair virgins I did tie men
In the close band of pleasing hymen.
I dipped two babes in holy water,
And purified the mothers after.
Within an hour, and eke a half,
I preached three congregations deaf,
Which, thundering out with lungs long-winded,
I chopped so fast, that few there minded.
My emblem, the laborious sun,
Saw all these mighty labours done,
Before one race of his was run;
All this performed by Robert Hewit
What mortal else could e'er go through it!




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