A pleasant land is Scribie, where br The light comes mostly from below, br And seems a sort of symbol rare br Of things at large, and how they go, br In rooms where doors are everywhere br And cupboards shelter friend or foe. br br This is a realm where people tell br Each other, when they chance to meet, br Of things that long ago befell - br And do most solemnly repeat br Secrets they both know very well, br Aloud, and in the public street! br br A land where lovers go in fours, br Master and mistress, man and maid; br Where people listen at the doors br Or 'neath a table's friendly shade, br And comic Irishmen in scores br Roam o'er the scenes all undismayed: br br A land where Virtue in distress br Owes much to uncles in disguise; br Where British sailors frankly bless br Their limbs, their timbers, and their eyes; br And where the villain doth confess, br Conveniently, before he dies! br br A land of lovers false and gay; br A land where people dread a 'curse;' br A land of letters gone astray, br Or intercepted, which is worse; br Where weddings false fond maids betray, br And all the babes are changed at nurse.