They're out early today
in full voice you may say.
If they're bothering me that's okay
at least they leave others for a day.
Once a week's my turn to be bothered by each
in turn, Jew, Roman, Protestant and Greek.
I have six days of the week to restore
gird my loins, prepare for more.
Bothering god is the sport we know
with room's full of those ready to go.
All migrants waiting to depart
in the blocks ready to start.
Well prepared, bothering to the last
in the boat, the rope ready to cast
off for Styx river crossing
despite all the fussing.
If it's mine to tell
I'm a major botherer as well.
15/11/2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem