The Squire

A village church one Sabbath-day,
Many had entered there to pray. '
Some knelt along the flagstone floor,
Old men, old women, halt and poor.
Piously in response they said
" Give us this day our daily bread."
Whether they got it, I don't know.
But twice or thrice they pleaded so.
Those words the squire repeated too
Above his cushioned giltnail'd-pew.
Sudden a distant shot he heard.
And up his portly girth was reared.
" Jim !" cried he, " drowsy devil! run
Tell keeper. . .by the Lord!... a gun !
Zounds ! I am always in bad luck. . .
Perhaps there goes my fattest buck !"