cassock dance

Cassock dance  The heaven hangs low today, just above the spire of the village church, which is closed since the priest hung himself  in the vestry. He drank, you see lifted his cassock and danced  lost respect among the parishioners he had humiliated them the men in the bar gave him whisky to drink and he danced like a drunken tart. The bishop remonstrated with the fallen who promised to do better He was seen in prone before the cross Pale and suffering, etched into his still handsome face, women said he looked Jesus, when the ladies of mercy took  him down and cleaned his wounds Alas, the call from the bar grew louder  intolerable  a breeze from the open window  he danced the last waltz in the vestry