[Jerome Betts]

In 1907, it was reported that a Devon parish had succumbed to the 'last line of a limerick' competition craze in aid of a heating sytem for the church. Entrants paid threepence, but the prize is not recorded and nor is the winning line. I supplied what seemed to me a very obvious one for the purposes of an article about 'Liturgical Limericks' and would be curious to know if it was equally obvious to Erastopherians.

That our church is decidedly cold
Is a fact that is plain, so we're told,:
But when ladies combine
There comes a warm time . . .

Tongue in cheek, I also offered a limerick as a centenary celebration of the Devon contest , but my own completing line went astray and the editor printed a line of his own which rhymed but was deliberately long and non-metrical. Again, my line seems obvious, even if a bit of a cop-out, and again I am curious as to whether Erastopherians would hit on exactly the same wording. In case there are metrical medics among the membership, the title is not a misprint, and similarly, in the case of ambitious clergymen, it appears that mitres should not be washed but cleaned, and there are firms who do it, information which may come in useful if you are ever elevated to to the episcopate.

MITRAL ENOSIS

A bishop who buttered his mitre
Found that when it was cleaned it felt tighter.
If this leaves you perplexed
As to what happened next . . .

[Allen Tice]

. . .
Consult a good limerick writer.


I'm not of the Church of Old E : ),
But it's evident e'en to me
That those women of old
Stamping feet in the cold
Had little to lend you or me.

[Jerome Betts]

Thank you, Allen. Your episcopal completion shares one word with mine, 'writer', so that's a good start. Yes, 3d, the entrance fee in old money, was one quarter of 5p in the present currency, so indeed they had little to lend.

Incidentally, the editor's non-metreical cop-out was: "The Editor wishes readers to know that this is merely for personal amusement, and offers no prize - the blighter!"

[Gail White]

Thanks for the amusement. I couldn't help with the limerick, but it did remind me of a British song that has haunted me for years because it obviously referred to some local event that was completely incomprehensible to me. Maybe someone else knows it. The
refrain was:

"Congleton bear, Congleton bear,
They sold the church Bible to buy a new bear."

[Jerome Betts]

Yes, Gail, incomprehensible to me as well, but the link below may shed some light. The song seems to be modern, but perhaps the 'Congleton bear, Congleton bear' bit is one of those insulting rhymes reflecting inter-village or inter-town rivalry. Congleton is in Cheshire and there is an 18th century church as well as two 19th century ones. I wonder if Congleton knows it has lodged itself in at least one American memory?

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/paul.thorp/lyrcongl.htm

[Gail White]

Thanks, Jerome, that's the song!
Though why Congleton had a town bear may be forever a mystery.

[Allen Tice]

Originally Posted by Jerome Betts

Thank you, Allen. Your episcopal completion shares one word with mine, 'writer', so that's a good start. Yes, 3d, the entrance fee in old money, was one quarter of 5p in the present currency, so indeed they had little to lend.

Incidentally, the editor's non-metreical cop-out was: "The Editor wishes readers to know that this is merely for personal amusement, and offers no prize - the blighter!"

Since I qualify, and since 'writer' was the rhyme word, I must rest my case. Thump. Pay up. I might be in London briefly in late June to collect and defend my fief.

('Blighter' being limited to humans, I didn't want to violate Natural Law and apply it to the snug hat.)

In case any doubt my license, there is a false rhyme in the matronical limerick (false even in the US: 'm' ≠ 'n'), so pray don't lear at the two appearances of 'me'. (See below.)

I retain some curiosity about how to integrate 'enosis' with 'writer'. I know what it means well enough.

Allen
Allen

[R. S. Gwynn]

That our church is decidedly cold
Is a fact that is plain, so we're told,:
But when ladies combine
There comes a warm time . . .

If they read J. L. Carr in the fold.