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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
Copyright ©
Jan Hansen
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