The Religious Drunk.

The religious drunk.



My religious bent

Got up and went

It left me quite subdued

I had to wait till Mother,

My main provider

Brought home the cider

And improved

My imperative mood.



Then I sat

Looked at the mat

And binned another tin.

I drink to think

To form a message

Then feel of course a presage,

My mind is dark

It really is a sin.



Then a day

It had its say

Told me about a war,

Poppies wall to wall,

News reels about a time

It really was a crime,

That ordinary man could die

Who worked in a haberdashery store.



So I cried

For those that died

Then hoped it would never come again.

Then realised of course

That man is mad

And the Devil glad,

For it seems to me

There are no wise men.



Who is Boss?

It makes me Cross

That life is so roughshod.

This World deserves a kick,

To remember what is good

And should not be misunderstood,

For ashes fade so fast,

Thank Christ I am no God.



For I’m me,

But sit with three

Who push me pillar to the post.

The Gideon’s introduced us

When I was at the school,

You have to believe in majority rule.

So I sit and toast the best

The Father Son and Holy Ghost.



Cheers.


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