And first, dear friends, the fact is, I'm sadly out of practice, And may fail in doing justice to this literary bore; But when I do begin it, I don't think 'twill take a minute To prove there's nothing in it (as you've doubtless heard before), But a free religious wrangling club--of this I'm very sure-- Only this and nothing more!
'Twas a very cordial greeting, one bright morning of their meeting; Such eager salutations were never heard before. After due deliberation on the importance of the occasion, To begin the organization, Mr. Pompous took the floor With an air quite self-complacent, strutted up and took the floor, As he'd often done before!
With an air of condescension he bespoke their close attention To an essay from a Wiseman versed in theologic lore; He himself had had the pleasure of a short glance at the treasure, And in no stinted measure said we had a treat in store; Then he waved his hand to Wiseman and resigned to him the floor; Only this and nothing more.
Quick and nervous, short and wiry, with a look profound, yet fiery, Mr. Wiseman now stepped forward and eyed us darkly o'er, Then an arm-chair, quaint and olden, gay with colors green and golden, By the pretty hostess rolled in from its place behind the door, Was offered to the reader, in the centre of the floor, And he took the chair be sure.
Then with arguments elastic, and a voice and eye sarcastic, Mr. Wiseman into flinders the Holy Bible tore; And he proved beyond all question that the God of Moses' mention Was a fraudulent invention of some Hebrews, three or four, And the Son of God's ascension an imaginary soar! Only this and nothing more.
Each member then admitted that his part was well acquitted, For his strong, impassioned reasoning had touched them to the core; He felt sure, as he surveyed them through his specs, that he had "played" them, And was proud that he had made them all astonished by his lore; Not a continental cared he for the fruits such lessons bore, So he bowed and left the floor.
Then a Colonel, cold and smiling, with a stately air beguiling, Who punctuates his paragraphs on Newport's sounding shore, Said his friend was wise and witty, and yet it seemed a pity To destroy in this old city the belief it had before In the ancient superstitions of the days of yore. This he said, and something more.