The moon in the valley of Ajalon
Stood still at the word of the prophet;
But since certain 'Essays' were written
We don't think so very much of it.
Now, a prophet is raised up among us,
Whose miracles none can gainsay;
For he spoke, and the great river Witham
Flowed three days, uphill, the wrong way.
More verses by Horace Smith
- An Attempt To Remember The
- My Boating Song
- To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London
- The Curate To His Slippers
- Prologue To A Charade.--
