David Lewis Paget (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)
The Picnic in the Wood
It was Sunday, after vespers
In the town of Montauban,
Where the Seminary Deacons walked
Along the tree-lined strand,
While two girls were sipping latté
At the Café Belle Amie,
Watching all the black-robed brothers
As they passed, but covertly!
‘Don't you think he's very handsome? '
Sighed the girl called Mirabel,
As the brother Michael passed them,
Turned his head, and gave a smile,
While Georgette had sat and giggled,
Put her hand up to her mouth:
‘Don't you think it's rather wicked,
Tempting priests to break a vow! '
Mirabel had raised an eyebrow
And stared archly at her friend,
‘Isn't that the main attraction,
Tempting vows that never mend?
I once overheard my mother
Tell her sister, Aunt Denise,
‘You will never know seduction
If you've not seduced a priest! ''
It was autumn in the country
And the leaves lay all around,
Making pathways sere and golden
With their passing, on the ground,
And the woods that lay by Montauban
Were like some lovers' dell,
That these girls had often wandered,
And the nooks, they knew too well.
When Mirabel had smiled, coquettish
At the novice priest,
He'd stopped, and turned to join them,
Chatted low, but quite at ease,
‘I have filled a picnic basket,
Pink champagne and sweet baguettes,
I intend to go tomorrow,
Come along, and be my guest.'
Then he pointed to the pathway
That led deep into the wood,
‘We can have a pleasant day of fun,
And stuff ourselves with food;
I have seven different cheeses
Camembert and Brie de Meaux,
Some Gruyère and Mimolette…'
Then Mirabel said: ‘Yes, I'll go! '
Her friend shrank back, and shivered,
Mirabel had caught her eye,
‘Don't you crash my little party…'
It had said, and she knew why!
There would be more fun and frolics
Than the novice would suspect,
When her friend returned tomorrow
With his celibacy wrecked!
But seven days went by, there was
No sign of Mirabel,
Then Michael came, and said that she
Was called to aunt Giselle;
It seems she'd had a fit, and Mirabel
Had caught the train,
She wouldn't be around for weeks
Her aunt lived in Lorraine! '
Georgette was disappointed
She had hoped to see her friend,
But Michael stayed and chatted
And he charmed her, in the end,
He said it was Georgette that had
Attracted him that night,
But Mirabel jumped in too quick,
And put his plans to flight.
The girl felt more than flattered,
She was always in the shade,
For Mirabel had always picked
The best of who they laid,
So when he made his offer
That a picnic would be right,
She blushed, and then she stammered,
‘I'd be honoured - if you like! '
The woods that lie by Montauban
Took on their winter shroud,
The weeks went by, and neither girl
Returned to join the crowd,
The vermin had been busy
On their bones, deep in the wood,
Had eaten what virginity
Was left, with Michael's food.
And Michael, his Hail Mary's
In his Seminary cell,
Had brought him more than comfort,
They had saved his soul from hell,
For no-one, he reflected,
Could tell anybody now,
He'd kept his love protected
And his celibacy vow!
5 July 2012
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