Games In The Vestry Poem by Edna Sweetlove

Cold, cold, cold the snow outside the country church.
The quiet park, in summer filled with children's happy cries
And singing birds and mothers, babes in arms, is quiet now.
Snow falls gently on the leaves and on the statue in the lake.

But in the vestry all is not so quiet, as Father Reilly
Gropes his Christian way under the young girl's clothes,
Not minding her screams of terror at his clawing fingers;
'For the love of Jesus, but that feels great, ' he moans.

And don't forget that, even if he does get caught one day,
Even if that little girl tells her shocked Mummy and Dad,
The bishop, clad in purple and with all the Church's power,
Will brush the trivial incident under the clerical carpet.