The Wicklow Preacher

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He – and of course it is he –

scratches away at the itch

of tired moral certitude.

They’re not really listening,

the pew-lined respectables,

not glued to his word, they want

their good favour confirmed

and others condemned:

the rival sectarian,

the godless, the gay.

The Bible, you see,

is plain and is true,

and your rank and mine

is ordained by the love

of One who would butcher

His Son in your place.

Seize hold of conviction,

let go of confusion –

for we’re all right, Jack.

And now if you don’t mind

there are sheep to be dipped.

Rupert Moreton

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