Oh, jealous Cotterill, why so warm? Because your congregation, In spite of all you preach and storm, Persist in fornication.
And so you think a ball-room dress
Unfitted for a pew, And fain would check the wantonness That gives the breasts to view.
"Indecent" is a cruel word
To use to strict church-goers, It's very awful by the Lord To call us rogues and whores.
In pews, like sheep in pens we sit, While you indulge in barking, If sheep will cast sheep's eyes a bit It is not worth remarking.
The ball-room and the play-house gay
In India are so rare, That church for those who play or pray Is crowded by the fair.
Poor Cotterill - why then should he grieve
Because our glances roam? He merely wants us all to leave Our "Hearts and Souls" at home.
I joy the lecherous girl to squeeze, I joy thy rage to see, So first I sin myself to please And next to anger thee.
The silliest goose that swims the lake
Is known to be the Dotterel, That spelling must be a mistake. The name I'm sure is Cotterill!
