letter to church mouse poem

reply to poem by John betjamine

$2.00

N.B This was written long before the ordination of women was thought possible. There is a reference to a vicar wearing a frock. This refers to a man in a cassock. there is no offence intended,  I hope there is none taken.

Small mouse, you wee timorous creature

who lives within the house of our Creator

in dark and forgotten places,

where we humans rarely go.

Who hides behind long discarded hassocks

And sleeps on old and grubby  cassocks.

think on us who stand outside

who rarely dare to step inside,

where only the good may go.

It’s  true it must be said

That we will sometimes enter in,

Often when a couple wed,

Or to wet the baby’s head,

Or, on occasion, when one of us is dead.

But we rarely dare to stay there among

the graves of long forgotten Knights.

Where statues of old men in tights,

Look down with disapproving eye,

as we try

to follow some ancient liturgy,

and wonder why the vicars got a frock on.

Tell us what to do

and when to stand and when to sit,

do we sing the anthem bit.

or is that just the choir?

Will we be consumed by heavenly fire

when a cold deadly stare

Tells us we are sitting in someones chair?

Good mouse we would gladly sing our Saviours  praise.

But we are told we have to know our place.

What is that place, and where?

And are we really welcome there?

Good friend eat your fill of  festive food.

Think of us and eat with a will.

eat it all, eat  the tower

and the steeple.

Eat it all, but save the people.

W.R.Turner.

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