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Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1772/The Cure's Progress

< Littell's Living Age‎ | Volume 137

Monsieur the Curé down the street
     Comes with his kind old face, —
With his coat word bare, and his straggling hair,
     And his green umbrella-case.

You may see him pass by the little "Grande-Place,"
     And the tiny "Hôtel-de-Ville;"
He smiles as he goes, to the fleuriste Rose,
     And the pompier Théophile.

He turns, as a rule, through the "Marché" cool,
     Where the noisy fish-wives call;
And his compliment pays to the "belle Thérèse,"
     As she knits in her dusky stall.

There's a letter to drop at the locksmith's shop,
     And Toto, the locksmith's niece,
Has jubilant hopes, for the Curé gropes
     In his tails for a pain d'epice.

There's a little dispute with a merchant of fruit,
     Who is said to be heterodox,
That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui!"
     And a pinch from the Curé's box.

There is also a word that no one heard
     To the furrier's daughter too;
And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red,
     And a "Bon Dieu garde M'sieu!"

But a grander way for the Sous-Préfet,
     And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne;
And a mock "off-hat" to the Notary's cat,
     And a nod to the Sacristan: —

For ever through life the Curé goes
     With a smile on his kind old face, —
With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair,
     And his green umbrella-case.