The Archdeacon was coming to luncheon at two.A few weeks later, more than 100 curates met in London to discuss forming a Curate's Union but the session produced little more than "hubbub and commotion" and the attendees dispersed.
Mrs. Vicar was all in a flutter,
And thinking the Curate had nothing to do,
She asked him to go for some butter.
The Curate indignantly went off to find,
The grocer, next door to the draper's.
The butter he fetched, then his cure he resigned,
And finally wrote to the papers.
Oh, hasty young clergyman, was it quite wise,
Such a passionate protest to utter?
In every profession the chance of a rise,
Depends very much upon butter.
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