Year: 1877

There was something SO unusual in the singing Of


the choir
That the Elder looked up mildly from the tenth Of


jeremiah,
And with readjusted eye-glass looked along the


foremost row,
While hundred necks were twisted in stare from


all below.
As before the rolling thunder comes distant, vail


ing moan,
There was presage of disturbance in the very or


gan's Tone
Just the popping of the pickets, ere the battles


awful din,
Or the tuning of the ddles the orchestra begin
An unprejudiced observer might have seen with


half an eye
There was waiting an explosion that would blow
them all sky-high,
Or spontaneous combustion, to accept modern


name,
That was waiting just motion to burst forth into
The Soprano sat in grandeur, with her book before


her face,
With her back-comb turned in anger on the Alto


and the Bass;
While the Tenor stood beside her with an elevated


nose,
And the Organist paved madly at the pedals with


his toes.
How could any one but Angels sing when they


were feeling so
Though the hymn was "SOngs of Gladness, they


would make it "Sounds of Woe"
When sing about devotion, some devotion we


must feel,
Or our plaintive tones of worship will partake


somewhat of squeal.
But the Alto sung her solo, and then left it to the


Bass,


ing for the place
While the 0rganist, in anger, sung the leading


part alone,
And the Tenor tried to follow, but it ended in a


groan.
As the horror-stricken people heard the discord


rising higher,
1t was patent to the simplest there was trouble in


the choir,
And the 0rganist, in fury, closed the organ with


crash,
And the Alto sobbed in anguish and the choir had


gone to smash.
When the Elder went among them with view to


reconcile,
The Soprano told her story with sanguinary


smile
1t appeared the wretched Chorister had introduced


a girl,
With brand-new style of singing, and most dis


tracing curl.
But, to cap the bitter climax, this usurper wore


hat,
Just a duck, gem, beauty, and it made the rest


look fiat;
And the straw that broke the camels back and


made the wreck complete
She came early Sunday morning, and usurped the


leading seat.
When the Elder asked the Tenor why he left, he


said: because
The Soprano said his chest tones sounded just like


hing saws;
And he overheard the Alto one night whisper to


the Bass,
That man with such moustache was palpable


disgrace"


his views
When he came and Joined the Elders choir, TO


help fill up his pews.
He was an EpiscOpalian, and if people thought


he'd take
Any nonsense from a Baptist, they had made a


great mistake.
Then the organist and Alto put on an injured


look,
Saying something in an undertOne about change


of book;
And the Elder overheard them, as he gently closed


the door,
Use the words, "a poor old fOgy," and "a senti-


mental bore"
And he scratched his poor old nOddle, as he ambled


down the street,
With his spectacles on forehead and his slippers


on his feet;
And really think the Elder has hope of pour


ing oil
On the troubled sea of music to aIlay the sad tur


moi.
In the meantime service opens with old "China'


or "Bethune,"
And the Deacon with his tune-fOrk gives the peO-
pie all the tune;
And the OrgOn gathers cobwebs, and the people


gather grace,
While they roar out coronation" to the Deacon
hoarsest bass