Sunday Service

They used to flock here Of a Sunday For worship and prayer Lost in a world Of private contemplation Now they come For that first Sunday pint Praying for an end To splitting headaches And that endless ennui The wafer and chalice, God's own flesh and blood Have given way To Bacardi breezers And two for one burger deals No need for a collection plate To pay the poor priest's bills The greedy owners rub their hands As cash flows into the tills A couple of miles away Young couples arrive For a peek around St Michael's showroom flats The baptismal font Of property awaits If they stump up the cash And take a leap of faith Mortgage advisers Wait in the wings With chequebooks open Ready to earn their corn For this is modern Britain Born of Thatcher's greed And moneylenders in the temple No longer brings scorn