Poem by Anonymous

Limerick. “There was a young curate of Minster…”

There was a young curate of Minster, 
Who admonished a giddy young spinster.
	For she used, on the ice, 
	Words not at all nice 
When he, at a turn, slid against her.

1. Gathering of Atholl
2. Lord Strafford’s Meditations in the Tower
3. The Bells of Fletching
4. The Old Scottish Gentleman
5. Barthram’s Dirge

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