(un) Evensong Poem by Angela Wybrow

I just spied a drunk man up by our church;
Along the pavement, he unsteadily lurched.
It was early evening (about half past six) :
Of alcohol, he’d no doubt had a sizeable fix.

A battered blue bicycle, he wheeled by his side –
That battered blue bicycle, I prayed he’d not ride.
Upon a wooden bench, he sat himself down,
Then, from out of his mouth, came a terrible sound.

I guessed that the sound was supposed to be a song,
But the words were all garbled and the tune all wrong.
His musical accompaniment was his bicycle bell –
What song he sang, I was quite unable to tell.

I doubted he’d be on The X-Factor anytime soon,
As he sat on his bench beneath a crescent-shaped moon.
On the opposite side of the road, I very sensibly stayed,
But a smile graced my lips as I went on my way.