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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Friar’s Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Some love the matin-chimes, which tell<br>The hour of prayer to sinner:<br>But better far's the mid-day bell,<br>Which speaks the hour of dinner;<br>For when I see a smoking fish,<br>Or capon drown'd in gravy,<br>Or noble haunch on silver dish,<br>Full glad I sing my ave.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My pulpit is an alehouse bench,<br>Whereon I sit so jolly;<br>A smiling rosy country wench<br>My saint and patron holy.<br>I kiss her cheek so red and sleek,<br>I press her ringlets wavy,<br>And in her willing ear I speak<br>A most religious ave.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538702" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And if I'm blind, yet heaven is kind,<br>And holy saints forgiving;<br>For sure he leads a right good life<br>Who thus admires good living.<br>Above, they say, our flesh is air,<br>Our blood celestial ichor:<br>Oh, grant! mid all the changes there,<br>They may not change our liquor!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Makepeace+Thackeray">William Makepeace Thackeray</a></strong></div>

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