To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London

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Thou little village curate,
  Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
  So sweetly _tete-a-tete_.

Oh do not fear the railway
  Because it seems so big--
Dost thou not daily trust thee
  Unto thy little gig.

This house is full of painters,
  And half shut up and black;
But rooms the very snuggest
  Lie hidden at the back.
  Come! come! come!

© Horace Smith