When the sexton fell ill,
   **** Smith, as he was
    known, sounded our
    Angelus on the Anvil.

Often, he was accompanied
by pawing on the flagstones
with forelegs, and a chorus
  of nickering in harmony.

Tackle jingled, as anchored
  horses head upped their
nosebags, assuring us that
   it was no doubt, midday!