Oh, jealous Cotterill, why so warm?
Because your congregation,
In spite of all you preach and storm,
Persist in fornication.

And so you think a ball-room dress
Unfitted for a pew,
And fain would check the wantonness
That gives the breasts to view.

"Indecent" is a cruel word
To use to strict church-goers,
It's very awful by the Lord
To call us rogues and whores.

In pews, like sheep in pens we sit,
While you indulge in barking,
If sheep will cast sheep's eyes a bit
It is not worth remarking.

The ball-room and the play-house gay
In India are so rare,
That church for those who play or pray
Is crowded by the fair.

Poor Cotterill - why then should he grieve
Because our glances roam?
He merely wants us all to leave
Our "Hearts and Souls" at home.

I joy the lecherous girl to squeeze,
I joy thy rage to see,
So first I sin myself to please
And next to anger thee.

The silliest goose that swims the lake
Is known to be the Dotterel,
That spelling must be a mistake.
The name I'm sure is Cotterill!