The curate’s motorbike

Come here darling, come here quick,
‘Cos your Daddy’s very sick.
Run as fast as fast, you can,
Get the priest, get Father Dan.
Run,run went my eight year old feet,
Down the lane and up the street
I ran right up to Father’s door,
[Does God live there any more?]
“Come please, Mam said Daddy’s ill”
“Oh”,said Father,”that I will.”
Revving up his motor bike
With The Sacrament beside;
He lifted me up onto the back
And roared off up the church-side track.
It was the best thrill of my life;
If only Daddy had not died.

 

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About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
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2 Responses to The curate’s motorbike

  1. Mike says:

    This reader is uncertain whether to laugh or to cry but certainly enjoyed this.

    Like

  2. KatherineB says:

    I was afraid at the time until the ride on the motorbike.. the only time ever…
    Yes,the last line is a shock…thanks for your comment,Mike.

    Like

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