letter to church mouse poem
reply to poem by John betjamine
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.