XV
In olden days a few holy men
Would mortify their flesh in various ways
In modern, sinful England everybody does it -
It's called The Easter Holidays.
The penitents are up before the sunrise
Some don't even stop to break their fast,
Then spend hours immobile on the motorway,
It's a form of penance unsurpassed.
When finally they reach their destination,
Tired and hungry - full of woe,
Every parking place has been taken,
There really is nowhere they can go.
After the flesh has been tormented
With chilly winds and frequent freezing rain,
The homeward journey still awaits the sinner -
The modern version of the whip and chain.
The Almighty must have a sense of humour,
For, after weeks of warmth and sun
He switches back to winter over Easter,
To give the masochists some extra fun.
Those who have been really sinful
Have to take their holidays abroad.
Hours of painful suffering await them,
But they know it is their just reward.
Sometimes an airport is fog-bound
Or foreign air controllers are on strike,
Exhausted children whine and fret and grizzle
As boring day turns into boring night.
At last the nation's sins are fully purged
And everyone is back at work again,
By the time Easter comes round once more
We'll have forgotton all this stress and strain.
Written 15.4.1990
(One of my favourites)
