Today’spoem

I wandered to church last Sunday morn With sleep in my eyes, with a scratch and a yawn. A surprise was in store — there’s a full church, that’s great! Exceedingly more than the usual eight. A Christening today, not one but three! ‘The whole church is full!’ said the Rector with glee. No time to dally, nor a time to come late, Not a pew to be had for the usual eight. Ladies in posh hats with a floral display, Red nails and cleavages heading our way. All looking good in their dressing-up state, Far more dressed up than the usual eight. Fathers were clad in their fine Sunday best, Hair all spiked up, shirt neatly pressed. Not wanting the service to finish too late, Then back to the pub, for one over the eight. The Rector begins with a word and a song, Trying to be heard over this mighty throng. With hope and with vigour he passes the plate But the only ones giving are the usual eight! Next week we’ll be left to our usual fate With Holy Communion and collection plate. A family service now and then would be great. Perhaps we’d get more than the usual eight.