A young tall shavenheaded far-flung backroom friend of mine has asked me to read the following, uncompleted verse on Tuesday at the Primates. I will, of course. Of course I will.
It came in two grabs, and I hope he adds to it.
I will put it up, progressively, as he sends it in.
………………………………………………………………………………………..
Attend the fate of Father Pell
Who strives to save our souls from hell,
Yet now is brought to per’lous pass,
And many a sore and aching arse,
Unlike the saintly Lot of fame
Whose daughters saved an angel’s shame.
His shepherds spurned the quim’s delights
In favour of their acolytes.
Into this bum-fuck Shangri-La
Came Anthony from Warringah,
His bastard child a cause for cheer:
“At least we know he’s not a queer!”
And even when he jumped the wall
- for siren songs trump Jesus’ call -
For quite a while there, all was well:
Votes for Abbott, hush for Pell.
Yet crack by crack do cracks appear
In such a cruel yet thin veneer.
First Pell is named with those who sinn’d
In civil case, in court, in print,
And worse to come! Young Anthony
Is also quite a prick, for he
Supports these sexual preferences
By handing out of references.
Hauled up they were, to answer quick
For what was done by holy dick
In outrage (and in irony)
An Inquisition came to be.
It’s hard to hold your congregants
When priests are known as deviants:
Confessions by the dozen, score
Hundreds, thousands, even more.
At least for Tony all it meant
Was he’d win, be the government.
Far worse the fate awaiting Pell,
A billion years or so in Hell,
And this is what the clergy choose;
Tis better, sir, to join the Jews!
At least they only clip your tail,
Then let you be. Amen. Wassail.
Name:
Seeing a thread for poetry, I dare to post about the movie I saw this afternoon a top class German one called “Barbara”…
One of the best I seen this year so far, maybe the best.
I will not say anymore, as Bob might be planning to review it here; I agree with Peter Bradshaw and give it four stars out of five.
I thought ‘Barbara’ would be good, and your recommendation backs up my expectations.
McGaw
There’s nothing new in the above verses. It’s been done before.
What is interesting - the priestly grip of your Leader, enfolding the hand of Gates. Very odd woman.
Did you see the picture of them in the Lodge? Her hair’s the same colour as the furniture.
McGaw
“matches the furniture” gee, I will definitely not be voting Labor now
What a pin-head PCasey is
I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on between Gillard and her boyfriend, the amiable barber Tim?
I was expecting wedding bells to peal over Australia but it seems Tim won’t be making an honest women out of her after all.
He’s run off and bought himself a bush block and has installed a caravan on it.
Nothing wrong with that. Hitler had his wolf’s lair I guess. Perhaps Gillard will use it as her fuhrer bunker? A Viscount caravan parked on a bush block at Lake Eildon? Labor Campaign HQ with 457 McTernan in tow running strategy.
No room for Tim. Abbott will have to summon Bomber Command to blast them out with some high powered strategic ads.
Poor Tim. Seems to me and I could be wrong about this, but not everything is rosy at the Lodge.
When is the last time you have seen them together?
http://www.propertyobserver.com.au/news/the-first-bloke-tim-mathieson-buys-$115000-bush-block-on-lake-eildon-to-build-a-shack-amid-the-serenity/2013052461637
it’s OK, Frank, you are still the champion pin-head
P Casey, why don’t you concentrate on your own hair colour, or the lack of it: Julia looks better by the day.
To be envious is not nice.
Not sure what Abbott matches : the rear end of Reuben the dog, perhaps?
A fine effort, “Young tall shavenheaded far-flung backroom friend of [Bob's]” though one or two rhymes are a little dodgy
The second last stanza is (we hope) in error. Though not as regards Pell; there’s a place in Dante’s 8th Circle of Hell waiting for him.
Sometimes I think that it would be nice if there was a Hell, for the condign punishment of recreants.
(Sighs)
Yep, no more welching, no more felching.
No more skimming, no more rimming.
No more thuggery, no more buggery.
No more choirboys, they’re not just friar’s toys.
No more cover ups, no more selling pups.
No more haws and hums, no more kiddie’s achy bums..