HALF a bar, half a bar, Half a bar onward! Into an awful ditch Choir and precentor hitch, Into a mess of pitch, They led the Old Hundred. Trebles to right of them, Tenors to left of them, Basses in front of them, Bellowed and thundered. Oh, that precentor's look, When the sopranos took Their own time and hook From the Old Hundred! Screeched all the trebles here, Boggled the tenors there, Raising the parson's hair, While his mind wandered; Theirs not to reason why This psalm was pitched too high: Theirs but to gasp and cry Out the Old Hundred. Trebles to right of them, Tenors to left of them, Basses in front of them, Bellowed and thundered. Stormed they with shout and yell, Not wise they sang nor well, Drowning the sexton's bell, While all the church wondered. Dire the percentor's glare, Flashed his pitchfork in air Sounding fresh keys to bear Out the Old Hundred. Swiftly he turned his back, Reached he his hat from rack, Then from the screaming pack, Himself he sundered. Tenors to right of him, Tenors to left of him, Discords behind him, Bellowed and thundered. Oh, the wild howls they wrought: Right to the end they fought! Some tune they sang, but not, Not the Old Hundred. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME by GEORGE GORDON BYRON HOLIDAY AT HAMPTON COURT by JOHN DAVIDSON THE HAUNTED OAK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE IRISH MOTHER'S LAMENT by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER WRITTEN IN BUTLER'S SERMONS by MATTHEW ARNOLD NUPTIAL ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |