Are you coming in, vicar? The night is getting cold,
The sky is dark, the trees are quiet,
and it won't hurt to have a small one.

Let me take your coat sir, come and sit beside the fire.
A whiskey? there you are,


I've always wondered why you haven't married -
surely a man of the cloth must be in want of a wife?

Vicar, if you'll allow me, you have something on your cheek,
that collar looks frightfully uncomfortable;
just leave it on the mantle there,
I see the way you look at me during sermon.

I've loved you always, Will, say you feel the same.
God, my darling, I love it when you whisper my name.