Reverend Williams Has A Word With His Boss (Poetry)
02nd June 2024
Dear Lord, I doubt that I can save
my flock who sin so cheerfully
and take their errors to the grave
to face your judgement fearlessly
They come to church. I read Your word
it seems they listen faithfully
but then it’s like they never heard
they misbehave disgracefully
There’s hardly one that doesn’t break
the odd commandment now and then
my chiding almost bound to make
them flout Your law and sin again
They act at times like children bored
so think temptation’s just some game
give in to naughtiness, dear Lord
expect forgiveness all the same
I do my best as well You know
to keep them on a righteous path
and yet they slip and wander so
I’m baffled — should I cry or laugh?
They are, at heart, good simple folk
who like so many get enjoyment
from sensual pleasures that provoke
impulsive physical employment
In short, they drink and curse and lust
to some degree or else excess
and here, in truthfulness, I must
admit I’ve suffered wantonness
and strayed perhaps as many as
a dozen times since last we spoke
loose company so clearly has
a strong effect — a blesséd joke!
I’m just as bad as they are — worse —
for I’m supposed to be their guide
to comfort every soul and nurse
the wounded ones back to Your side
In order I should understand
their problems I have supped on beer
and now my poor unsteady hand
betrays me as I’m praying here
And oh! those devils in the dark
they goad me on with no respite
like savage dogs that howl and bark
they keep me wakeful half the night
with hungers I’m ashamed to own
big blowsy women in the street
who tease with flesh — those dangers known
and wiggle past on high-heeled feet
There’s one who’s ever on my mind
her lips, her hair, her dimpled skin
my appetite so far confined
to nods and smiles acknowledging
her sweet young face (so good for trade)
I know her for a common tart
but oh! so wonderfully made
she’d break His Grace, the Bishop’s heart!
And so you see, Lord, the extent
of my so-terrible transgressions
bad conscience says I should repent
and admit I’ve learned my lessons
But ... life is suddenly more fun
now I am not quite so holy
and I’ll carouse with anyone
deemed high, or medium, or lowly
Oh! I still wish to serve You — just
give me an inch or two of slack
the drink helps deal with death and dust
these lonely nights so long and black
And is it such a heinous crime
to yearn for some accepting breast
and let my thoughts from time to time
go winging where she waits undressed?
There’s comfort in those generous thighs
her scented flesh and silky hair
I’d love her as a golden prize
warm and real — beyond compare ...
If I’ve turned wicked — strike me down!
I’m merely human and I live
as flawed as others in this town
and give You all I have to give
my flock who sin so cheerfully
and take their errors to the grave
to face your judgement fearlessly
They come to church. I read Your word
it seems they listen faithfully
but then it’s like they never heard
they misbehave disgracefully
There’s hardly one that doesn’t break
the odd commandment now and then
my chiding almost bound to make
them flout Your law and sin again
They act at times like children bored
so think temptation’s just some game
give in to naughtiness, dear Lord
expect forgiveness all the same
I do my best as well You know
to keep them on a righteous path
and yet they slip and wander so
I’m baffled — should I cry or laugh?
They are, at heart, good simple folk
who like so many get enjoyment
from sensual pleasures that provoke
impulsive physical employment
In short, they drink and curse and lust
to some degree or else excess
and here, in truthfulness, I must
admit I’ve suffered wantonness
and strayed perhaps as many as
a dozen times since last we spoke
loose company so clearly has
a strong effect — a blesséd joke!
I’m just as bad as they are — worse —
for I’m supposed to be their guide
to comfort every soul and nurse
the wounded ones back to Your side
In order I should understand
their problems I have supped on beer
and now my poor unsteady hand
betrays me as I’m praying here
And oh! those devils in the dark
they goad me on with no respite
like savage dogs that howl and bark
they keep me wakeful half the night
with hungers I’m ashamed to own
big blowsy women in the street
who tease with flesh — those dangers known
and wiggle past on high-heeled feet
There’s one who’s ever on my mind
her lips, her hair, her dimpled skin
my appetite so far confined
to nods and smiles acknowledging
her sweet young face (so good for trade)
I know her for a common tart
but oh! so wonderfully made
she’d break His Grace, the Bishop’s heart!
And so you see, Lord, the extent
of my so-terrible transgressions
bad conscience says I should repent
and admit I’ve learned my lessons
But ... life is suddenly more fun
now I am not quite so holy
and I’ll carouse with anyone
deemed high, or medium, or lowly
Oh! I still wish to serve You — just
give me an inch or two of slack
the drink helps deal with death and dust
these lonely nights so long and black
And is it such a heinous crime
to yearn for some accepting breast
and let my thoughts from time to time
go winging where she waits undressed?
There’s comfort in those generous thighs
her scented flesh and silky hair
I’d love her as a golden prize
warm and real — beyond compare ...
If I’ve turned wicked — strike me down!
I’m merely human and I live
as flawed as others in this town
and give You all I have to give