220
Shine like old Beelzebub's, and to be sure
It must be one of his imps!--aye, nail it hard.
NATHANIEL.
I wish old Margery heard the hammer go!
FATHER.
Here's the Curate coming,
He ought to rid the parish of such vermin;
In the old times they used to hunt them out
And hang them without mercy, but Lord bless us!
The world is grown so wicked!
CURATE.
Good day Farmer!
Nathaniel what art nailing to the threshold?
NATHANIEL.
A horse-shoe Sir, 'tis good to keep off witchcraft,
And we're afraid of Margery.
CURATE.
Poor old woman!
What can you fear from her?
It must be one of his imps!--aye, nail it hard.
NATHANIEL.
I wish old Margery heard the hammer go!
FATHER.
Here's the Curate coming,
He ought to rid the parish of such vermin;
In the old times they used to hunt them out
And hang them without mercy, but Lord bless us!
The world is grown so wicked!
CURATE.
Good day Farmer!
Nathaniel what art nailing to the threshold?
NATHANIEL.
A horse-shoe Sir, 'tis good to keep off witchcraft,
And we're afraid of Margery.
CURATE.
Poor old woman!
What can you fear from her?
