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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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First Line: Come, give us more livings and rectors
Alternate Author Name(s): Little, Thomas


COME, give us more Livings and Rectors,
For, richer no realm ever gave;
But why, ye unchristian objectors ,
Do ye ask us how many we crave?


Oh there can't be too many rich
Livings For souls of the Pluralist kind,
Who, despising old Crocker's misgivings,
To numbers can ne'er be confined .


Count the cormorants hovering about,
At the time their fish season sets in,
When these models of keen diners-out
Are preparing their beaks to begin.


Count the rooks that, in clerical dresses,
Flock round when the harvest 's in play,
And not minding the farmer's distresses,
Like devils in grain peck away.


Go, number the locusts in heaven,
And when so many Parsons you've giver
On the way to some titheable shore;
We still shall be craving for more.


Then, unless ye the Church would submerge, ye
Must leave us in peace to augment,
For the wretch who could number the Clergy,
With few will be ever content.






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