A poem by S. J. Forrest

Wednesday, Feb 2nd was CANDLEMAS, as David explained in his sermon. Feb 2nd also happens to be my wife Margaret’s birthday, and we were sent this Candlemas poem which we wanted to share with you all. 

Andrew Wright

ARSON BY THE PARSON

Our Vicar’s pyromania, extravagant and rash,
Has rendered a beloved church to heaps of blackened ash, Though adequate insurances will put us on our feet,
We shiver in the parish hall, each Sunday, as we meet.

We never could appreciate his pyrotechnic games, When lighting up the chancel, with innumerable flames of candles on the reredos, the altar and the choir,
A veritable fantasy of incandescent fire.

We felt it was imperative a special fund to raise,
To buy asbestos clothing to protect us from the blaze,  “It signifies the Light of Heaven”, the vicar used to tell,  But we agreed it symbolized the other place as well.

One day (he called it Candlemas) the tragedy occurred,
He planned a festival of light or something quite absurd, And in the long procession, as it moved towards the door, The choristers were spilling blobs of wax upon the floor.

So trying to correct them and put their candles right, The vicar set his surplice accidentally alight.
This reverend incendiary bursting into flame
A striking illuminating spectacle became,

And in our modest estimate, agreeing with the rest, Was seen on this occasion at his brightest and his best.

But six intrepid gentlemen who followed with the choir, Abandoning their candlesticks, attempt to dowse the fire, Apply their heavy music books with a resonating thwack, And castigate the vicar at the front and at the back.