Fire & Brimstone (By another poet)

We sat in chapel and thought it odd
As the vicar called upon the wrath of God.
To punish sinners there and then
For disobeying Commandments ten.
As we all sang 'with me abide',
A howling wind struck up outside.
All the doors and windows rattled
As on and on the vicar prattled.
The sky went dark and thunder rumbled,
Some even thought that they'd been tumbled.
A lightning bolt the spire did strike,
And melted down the vicar's bike.
We all whirled round, as at the back
The doors flew open with a CRACK!
A streak of lightning down the aisle,
The music stand, a smoking pile.
The rood screen was next to go,
Ash fell down like falling snow
The organ hit, this made some swoon
The only time it's been in tune.

As hymn book pages flapped and fluttered,
The vicar's sermon stooped and stuttered.
A bolt of lightning through the church yard broke,
Demolished the vestry at a stroke.
The chapel shook from roof to wall,
Dust rained down on one and all.
Pews vibrated, pillars wobbled,
A gargoyle from the roof it toppled.
Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed,
The choir for the crypt they dashed,
The congregation looking worried,
Also to the crypt they hurried.
The vicar in the pulpit stood
An ashen face drained of all blood.
A lightning bolt, the last to hit,
The vicar ducked and shouted 'Shit!'
The chapel in ruins, a pile of rubble,
The vicar to thank for all this trouble
A smell of burning in the air,
The vicar fled to who knows where.
So next time a man of the cloth,
Happens to call upon God's wrath
Be ready to scramble hell for leather,
If you see a change in the weather.

Copyright; Toga
Email: tpgaunt@hotmail.com