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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.
