The Christening Party pt II
250 miles we went,
to see them wet the babys forehead.
A small and precious thing
Unknowing of the road ahead
Unfearing, unaware.
In the church we sang and prayed
And our echoes never dinted the hills around
Or raised the head of sheep and lambs
Til the stamping of our feet on stone and rock
For the after service coffee and the buffet queue
Rang out, sang out with relief.
250 miles we went to hold the baby
let the tiny fingers grip us, asking
Keep me, hold me, guide me
And when the music started
We talked more softly, knowing
Of the duty before us all.
And as the steam from paper mill churned out beside our gathering
And the river water tipped and churned past our feet
We strived to recapture noble thoughts within us and be good.
In the grassy verge, a rabbit shivered, half blinded and dying
Someone for the sake of mercy held it by its legs and
Dashed it against a low stone wall,
Spattering blood on his Sunday shirt
A wetting and a blooding seems fitting
for such a party.
