There once was a sensitive vicar,
who said, "I'm not one to bicker,
but the peal of that bell,
makes me feel quite unwell,
and plays merry hell with my ticker."
An incensed old soul by the spire,
preaching incense-igniting to the choir,
exclaimed, "There is but one catch,
when striking a match,
don't set your surplice on fire."
A parson spoke from the nave,
"Spend all you can, do not save,
if you've spilled all the sands,
and still have time on your hands,
you can't take it with you to the grave."
A wise minister in the kirk,
enlightened, observed with a smirk,
"When it's dark out there,
put your hands in the air,
as many hands make light work.”
the sad vicar
The vicar walks in front of the funeral procession
appears a bit wobbly, perhaps due to elderliness
eyes are watery, and the smell of lotion is too strong
He lost faith years ago praying in churches, asking
to be released from his throbbing masculinity
which left him affairs with female parishioners
past their first youth, but with adult feelings about
sexuality hidden in a black dress of widows
God had left him, he blamed himself especially now
that he was no longer young his discreet advances
were no longer useful.
The vicar had lost his faith, he went through rituals
that had no meaning, he was not a man of the cloth
His mother had been deeply religious and wished
her son will join the priesthood which he did partly
because to please her, and the idea of saving the world
from the evil that lurked in the heart of man.
He didn't know at the time, his male sexuality was
his downfall, when he knew, it was too late to do
anything about this problem, that youngish widows
was happy to assist in solving
Someone called his name, deep in thought he had
walked past the interment place, ah, they thought
our old is lost in prayers
A sure ear-bursting announcement:
It shall walls vibrate: pronouncement
A knight’s last-hour confession:
Banging the pregnant profession…
“I can’t. I will not! Where is he?
Don’t even mention any fee
May be, The Vicar should do so
Here’s the microphone as I go…”
“Who feels fine hanging on a tree
What makes Conscience cease to be free.
Recovery I see damned slow,
Numbness from a meeting with snow.”
“Master of Ceremony’s Trap!
Thank God, I always keep my map.
Yet, after today I’ve resigned
To have The Ambushed reassigned.”
I'm sure the creature fell from outer space;
I found a crater with its capsule in -
it crawled towards me then, devoid of kin,
with tentacles and multi-coloured face.
I shouted, 'Welcome to the human race'
and thought the waving movements of its limbs
responded to my idea: singing hymns.
I sang in tenor, baritone and bass,
and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to join my choir?'
It seemed to think, but then it gurgled, 'No',
and spinning round and round, it flew.
The capsule revving up appeared on fire -
my alien was surely set to go,
and off it went with smoke and sparks of blue...
written 21st October for Brian's contest
A siren from North Carolina
Once suffered from chronic angina.
Her dear beau found a cure
Of endearing allure -
He bought her a talkative mynah!
His goddess he loved calling Venus,
For "passionate love shared between us".
When the vicar came by,
The brash mynah let fly:
"We're lucky the Priest hasn't seen us!"
For a man of the cloth, our dear vicar
is not very partial to clothes
He is almost allergic to trousers
and y-fronts get right up his nose.
Ev’ry Sunday as he climbs in the pulpit
(where the choir boys are sitting below)
His meat and two veg are seen swinging
And it’s proof that he is commando
The ladies who bake and do flowers
don’t know if to scream or to peek
but Olga the Organist’s smiling
and she’s practising eight days a week!
At this year’s summer fete it was breezy
and the wind, I’m afraid, took its toll
His cassock blew up to his waistline
as he served up the last sausage roll
I've heard when he goes on vacation
He suns himself on a nudist beach
and his wife applies his sun lotion
to stop his tush looking like a ripe peach
03/14/20
There was a dear Vicar of Bray,
Fell out of his pulpit one day.
Jumping up, said I’m fine,
Too much Communion wine,
That inebriated Vicar of Bray.
The Vicar Vamooses
By Elton Camp
The pope’s resignation stuns the world
The year 1415 was the last time it took place
The resignation of a pope the hierarchy to face
Others have held tight to their perceived mission
Regardless of their physical or mental condition
An unusual situation the Vatican will then face
An independent state without any ruler in place
Nobody’s sure how this development to apprise
Even to the cardinals it came as a total surprise
The vicar says that his limits have been exceeded
That he’s too old and weak to do what is needed
For the hierarchy, these have been difficult days
A Vatican paper release has revealed its ways
The child sex abuse scandal continue to expand
One younger and more vigorous it may demand
So a conclave of cardinals will soon begin debate
As to just who it is that they will select to elevate
An old man sits on a churchyard bench
with his memories of times long ago.
When he was the Vicar of the church
and the people he’d come to know.
He recalls when he married a couple
on an almost perfect summer’s day.
And how with joy in their young faces
they knelt there before him to pray.
He remembers when he christened twins
who cried the whole ceremony through.
Their mother tried to keep them quiet
but there was nothing she could do.
The church would be full at Christmas
with people standing near the door.
He wondered why they all came
but then didn’t come any more.
And he still remembers the burial
of a young man who died in a car.
Taking his dangerous love of speed
so tragically, a little bit too far.
Near where he sits’ there’s a young boy
kneeling by his Grandmother’s grave.
It’s nearly dark , under a cold wintry sky,
and he’s not really feeling very brave.
The young boy stands with the old man
saying “Grandpa it’s time for us to go ”.
They walk off hand in hand together
on a path now sprinkled with snow.
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