THE CLERIC'S LAMENT

To the tune of "Rising early"

from The Gondoliers, Act 2 Scene 1.

 

Rising early in the morning we put on our black attire.

Then we eat a bowl of gruel just to stoke the inner fire.

Then we start without delay on the duties of the day.

 

First, we read through all the batches

of Diocesan dispatches

which seem to be in piles across the floor,

but it's such a rare occurrence

to find anything of substance

that most of the instructions we ignore.

Then we check the Diary pages for the day,

just to see whose turn it is to kneel and pray

as we read the Morning Office while we wait

for the visitor, who's nearly always late.

After that we generally

try to organise a Rally,

just to show the local people that the Church is still alive;

write some letters complement'ry

'bout that TV document'ry

that showed the various ways by which the clergy can survive.

Then in view of cravings inner

we go down and cook the dinner

then we polish up the chalice and the paten and the plate;

spend an hour or two creating

several sermons that are stating

how the Church of England nowadays is something that we hate!

Oh, the Bishop may be sure

that the clergy of his cure

have a superficial knowledge as to how to celebrate,

but the privilege and pleasure

that we treasure beyond measure,

is to take the Mass and secretly to transubstantiate!

Oh, the Bishop may be sure

that the clergy of his cure

have a superficial knowledge as to how to celebrate,

but the privilege and pleasure

that we treasure beyond measure,

is to take the Mass and secretly to transubstantiate!

 

 

It is always whilst we're lunching

and our bangers we are munching

that the telephone rings out from down the hall.

So we swallow our last portion

and we answer it with caution

just in case it's the Archbishop with a call.

But it's usually a couple with their Banns,

who want to meet and chat about their plans,

and although they've never been inside the door,

want a proper churchy wedding, that's for sure!

And they wonder if it's right

for the bride to be in white

since they'd like their three young children to be christened the same day!

And we make just one condition

to their conjugal coition,

that it's not the local milkman who is giving her away!

So we fix the time and date and

tell them not to be too late and

then we say goodbye and go back to our frozen little meal;

and we've taken our first spoonful.

and are humming something tuneful,

when the telephone decides it's time to give another squeal!

Oh, the laity may moan

that we're never by the 'phone,

but we always get the message and they rarely have to wait,

and the privilege and pleasure

that we treasure beyond measure

is to tell a couple's children that they're now legitimate!

Oh, the laity may moan

that we're never by the 'phone,

but we always get the message and they rarely have to wait,

and the privilege and pleasure

that we treasure beyond measure

is to tell a couple's children that they're now legitimate!

When the services are finished and the final hymn is sung,

we retire to the vestry where our jacket has been hung,

and we lock the cupboard doors, leaving coffee to the bores.

 

When your day-off you are taking

and you're out the door and making

your swift way along the drive into the car;

you can "bet your bottom dollar"

that despite your lack of collar,

that some passer-by will stop you getting far.

And it's always something trivial that could wait,

but you stand and suffer, smiling, at the gate,

whilst inside you wish that they would just drop dead,

or develop lockjaw instantly instead.

And you listen to their chatter,

and their gossip and their natter,

whilst in your mind you see them

frying in the fires of hell;

and you wish that you were holy,

and could pray for them quite slowly,

but deep inside you don't care

if they're sick or if they're well!

Then they ask about next Sunday

even though it's only Monday,

and you snap and tell them bluntly

that you really have to go!

And you turn around with passion

even though it's quite irration-

-al to treat the bastards rudely

for the Bishop soon will know!

Oh the pleasures of the post,

they can oft outweigh the most

depressing congregations that can occupy the pew,

but there's always that one person

that you'd like to put a curse on,

who could drive a holy saint to look for parishes anew.

Oh the pleasures of the post,

they can oft outweigh the most

depressing congregations that can occupy the pew,

but there's always that one person

that you'd like to put a curse on,

who could drive a holy saint to look for parishes anew.

 

After Mass and making merry

with a wafer and some sherry

if we've nothing in particular to do;

we may make a visitation

to some shrine of adoration

which we hope the Rural Dean won't misconstrue.

Then we help a passing trav'ler at our door,

with a "Cup-a-Soup", a sandwich, nothing more,

or we dress and toddle off in semi-state

to a funeral, a Festival or Fete.

Then as time is really fleeting

we go out to chair a meeting

'bout the Quota that's demanded and the money that we owe,

whilst the Warden we elected

tells the meeting he's defected,

to the Pentecostal church, and is surprised to find we know!

The Lay-chair's quite unstable,

signs the Minutes, if he's able,

then we close and serve the coffee and at half-past nine or ten,

with a headache symptomatic

we retire to our attic

with the knowledge that tomorrow we must do it all again!

Oh, the PCC may say

that this dog has had its day,

but through all the lengthy meetings we just sit and meditate;

and the privilege and pleasure

that we treasure beyond measure

is to build a Campanile and the costs miscalculate!

 

 

 

 Return to Sacred Song index

 

© Pharisaios Publications 2001, 2003