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A Commoner's Complaint

Must I sing my prayers as I was taught,
While blatant atheists are never caught?
Fie, fie, hark how those obstreperous feasts
Abuse the decent night, where bloodshot men
Goad their one-night consorts, as Bacchus’ beasts,
To fully fling forced manners off, and then
All else therewithal. Yet where are the morals
When they, after their fall and wake, at ease
As a sweets-munching brat at Christ’s sorrows,
Are blest-received in Latin by the priest?

Once the choir fades, the incense is dispersed,
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