Everyone listened, but nobody talked,
as the Vicar rode on by
His horse an old swayback, loaded with bibles
stove hat pointing up toward the sky
Everyone listened, but nobody smiled,
as the Vicar stormed and raged
"To hell in an instant, to hell you're all going, "
bony fingers turning the page
Monday till Saturday they spread their delight
catch-as-catch-can, then again
But Sunday morning to awaken in fright
—and face the Vicars threatening hand
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March,2018)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem