The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/On a Curate's Complaint of Hard Duty
A CURATE'S COMPLAINT of HARD DUTY.
I MARCH'D 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 bands of pleasing Hymen:
I dipp'd two babes in holy water,
And purify'd their mother after.
Within an hour and eke a half,
I preach'd three congregations deaf;
Where thundering out, with lungs longwinded,
I chopp d so fast, that few there minded.
|My emblem, the laborious sun,|
|Saw all these mighty labours done|
|Before one race of his was run.|
What mortal else could e'er go through it!