Poem Hunter
He Never Hed Read It Afore
(25 April 1854 – 3 November 1926 / Ontario)

He Never Hed Read It Afore

I' ve brot back thet Testment ye lent me :

I never bed read it afore ;
I know 't was a good turn ye meant me,

And now I 'm bankerin fer more.
I 've read it all throo an I 'm posted ;

One part in perticklar suits me
The place wher the Son uv Man roasted

Thet thur thunderin Pharisee !

This airth is as old as Methoosalum,

An still she 's a wantin a nurse ;
This town is es bad es Jeroosalum,

If not jest a little bit worse.
You see I 'm among the beginners,

And these, purty near, air my views :
Ef Jesus kem here he'd find sinners,

An most uv um would n't be Jews.

By Him they 'd not be a gainer

I mean by the temperance dodge
Cuz Christ ain't a total abstainer,

An could n't git into a lodge.
O, how the Sanhedrin would volley

Their charges till Heaven was dim ;
Ef Jesus should ride on a trolley

On the day that 's named after Him !

Las evenin says I to my Missus :
Ef Christ was seen in a car

On Sunday, the Pharisees' hisses
The pillars of Heaven would jar ;

The preachers would nag us an jab us,
An urge us to join in the cry

That Pilate should give us Barrabas
And let the pore Nazarene die.

I like that there book of yours, mister,

Fer sense, it 's on top of the pile
Thanks : I 'll keep it an use it to blister

A hypocrite once in a while.
Saint Paul knew how to bamboozle em :

Ef he to this city should stray
'T would rattle him worse 'n Jerooselum,

An that 's my opinion Good day !

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