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´╗┐Title: The Legend of the Lincoln Imp
Author: Kesson, H. J.
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Legend of the Lincoln Imp" ***

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[Illustration: Front cover]

[Frontispiece: The Lincoln Imp
  Photographed in its actual position in the
  Angel Choir of Lincoln Cathedral by S. Smith]

  The Legend
  of the
  Lincoln Imp

  by H. J. Kesson

  Lincoln: J. W. Ruddock & Sons Ltd

  of the

  To my friend
  E. B. K. D.


  First edition 1904
  Reprinted 1907, 1911, 1919, 1922, 1923,
  1925, 1927, 1930, 1935, 1939, 1941, 1944.

[Illustration: Lincoln Imp]

[Illustration: The Legend of the Lincoln Imp]

  The Legend of the Lincoln Imp

  The devil was in a good humour one day,
  And let out his sprightly young demons to play.
  One dived in the sea, and was not at all wet,
  One jumped in a furnace: no scorch did he get;
  One rode on a rainbow; one delved in the dirt;
  One handled fork lightning, nor got any hurt;
  One strode on the wind as he would on a steed,
  And thus to old Lindum was carried with speed,
  Where aldermen heard him conceitedly say
  "There'll be, ere I leave it, the devil to pay."

[Illustration: One strode on the wind as he would on a steed]

  "And now," says the Imp, "take me into the church;
  "His lordship of Lindum I'll knock off his perch;
  "I'll blow up the chapter, and blow up the dean;
  "The canons I'll cannon right over the screen;
  "I'll blow up the singers, bass, tenor, and boy;
  "And the blower himself shall a blowing enjoy;
  "The organist, too, shall right speedily find
  "That I'll go one better in raising the wind;
  "I'll blow out the windows, and blow out the lights,
  "Tear vestments to tatters, put ritual to rights!
  "And e'en the poor verger who comes in my road
  "Will find"--vulgar Imp!--"he may likewise be blow'd."

[Illustration: "He may likewise be blow'd."]

  Now the wind has his faults, but you'll find on the whole
  If somewhat uncouth, he's an orthodox soul;
  He wouldn't blow hard on a monarch, I ween,
  Nor ruffle the robes of a bishop or dean;
  And if for dissenters he cares not the least,
  You won't catch him blowing up deacon or priest;
  The man in the street he may rudely unrig,
  But he snatches not judge's or barrister's wig.
  When he enters a church, as the musical know,
  'Tis only to make the sweet organ-pipes blow:
  The toot on the "choir" or the "swell" or the "great,"
  And hence at the Imp he was justly irate;
  So in sorrowful anger he said to the elf,
  "No! here I shall stop, you may go by yourself."

  The impudent elf in derision replied,
  "Such half-hearted folks are much better outside;
  "To force you to enter I cannot, but see,
  "Till I've finished my fun, you must wait here for me."

  A grotesque sculpture on a pinnacle over
  the south porch of Lincoln Cathedral.]

  Then he entered the porch in an imp-ious way,
  Declaring the nave should be spelt with a K;
  He roamed through each transept, he strolled in each aisle,
  Then he thought in the choir he would romp for a while.
  As he passed 'neath the rood no obeisance he made;
  No rev'rence at all to the altar he paid;
  He thumbed all the canons' and choristers' books,
  And cast on the saints his most insolent looks;
  The chalice and patens were safe in a box,
  He was stopped in the act of unpicking the locks.
  He hacked at the lectern and chopped at the stalls;
  The tapestry tore from the sanctified walls;
  Incensed against incense, the thuribles he
  Demolished; the candlesticks broke on his knee.

[Illustration: The candlesticks broke on his knee.]

  Then seeing some angels he cried, "Pretty things,
  "A sackful of feathers I'll pluck from your wings
  "To make me a couch when I'm tired of this joke,"
  Ah! soon he was sorry that rudely he spoke;
  For the tiniest angel, with amethyst eyes
  And hair like spun gold, 'fore the altar did rise,
  Pronouncing these words in a dignified tone
  "O impious Imp, be ye turned into stone!"
  So he was, as you'll see when to Lincoln you stray:
  And the wind has been waiting outside till this day.
  You can't see the wind, but no matter for that
  Believe, or he'll rob you of cloak or of hat.

[Illustration: He'll rob you of cloak or of hat.]


  This moral, I trust, you'll deduce from my lay--
  If ever you're minded the mischief to play.
  Be sure that you're able the "needful" to find,
  In other words, certain of "raising the wind";
  And then, when you're bent upon "going the pace,"
  Don't count on the wind, or I pity your case.
  There are bikes at your service, and motors galore.
  Steam, gas, and electric machines by the score;
  Again, if for skittish amusement you search.
  Don't meddle, I pray, with affairs of the church.
  The puppets of politics--all will admit--
  Are legitimate sport for exuberant wit;
  But if ever a trick on the clergy you play,
  You'll speedily find there's the "dickens to pay."

[Illustration: There are bikes at your service, and motors galore.]

  To angels--when met--be extremely polite,
  Attentions too forward they'll keenly requite;
  Don't ruffle their feathers; just let them alone.
  Else, if you're converted, 'twill be into stone;
  Don't chum with low people, unruly and bold.
  And be left, when they've done with you, "out in the cold."
  Don't be far too clever; but seek to be good,
  And when you're at Lincoln behave as you should:
  Step into the Minster the Imp to behold.
  Who points to the truth of the tale that I've told.
  So visit old Lindum, a city most rare;
  Of course take a ticket, and pay the due fare!

[Illustration: Of course take a ticket, and pay the due fare!]

  The Imp is on the
  last column but one]



[Illustration: Rear cover]

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Legend of the Lincoln Imp" ***

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