THE MODEST CURATE
 
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I'm a very modest curate, and I love a quiet life,
Away from cares and worries and the din of city strife,
As yet I am a bachelor, one cannot keep a wife
On my stipend, which is forty pounds per year.
I've lately been appointed to a City curacy,
In a largely populated upper-class locality.
But the worldly ways I meet with are too terrible for me
And my path is not an easy one I fear.
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.
I cannot mix with fast Society,
I'll take the Dorcas parties, and the Mothers' Meetings through,
But I find that I'm expected most improper things to do
Such as singing at a 'Smoker,' and - er 'having one or two,'
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.

I fear that I shall never give my Vicar due support,
I feel compelled to say so, after long and careful thought.
He told me some time back I should 'Buck up' and 'Be a sport.' -
Such words I was distressed to hear him speak.
However, of our Boxing Club a member I became,
I donned the padded gauntlets to acquire the noble game,
Though I don't know how it happened, I remember all the same
I was incapacitated for a week.
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me,
Though Athletics I've indulged in frequently,
I've chased the merry butterfly, 'twas in my younger day,
And a jolly game of 'Rounders' I've at times essayed to play,
But when it comes to punching fellow creatures, I must say
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.

My Vicar goes to Whist drives and such functions now and then,
And these, I venture to believe, are not for clergymen.
At his request I went to one last Thursday evening, when
I won the 'Booby Prize' - a pair of socks.
They were handed up to me amidst a most unseemly road,
And I saw the Vicar laughing, which I very much deplore,
I felt as though his ears I'd like to box.
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me,
Though I love a little mild hilarity,
I tarried there awhile because I knew they'd think me nice,
I saw two ladies from our choir go down to supper twice,
And one drew my attention to a - mistletoe device -
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.

As far as marriage is concerned, I yet am fancy free,
But the Vicar's eldest daughter is, I fear, in love with me.
For yesterday she placed two lumps of sugar in my tea
I think I ought to speak to her mamma.
To add to my disgust the Vicar then came in to say
He'd tickets for the Pantomime - a kind of Christmas play -
I went and saw a portion, then I wisely came away,
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.
It was 'Richard Whittington' we went to see,
And one performing female, well, so I understand
Looking at me coyly, gave me greeting with her hand
Inviting me, with other friends to all go down the Strand,
I'm afraid such things were never meant for me.
 
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Written and composed by Graham Squiers & Guy S. Jones - 1913
Performed by Walter Walters
 
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