May I tell you God, what happened to me?
For I swear, it is the truth,
about some of your followers,
who to me were so, uncouth.
Whilst sitting beside a gravestone,
rolling a cigarette,
I decided to talk, with you my Lord,
a day I won’t forget.
Relaxing there, outside the church,
one had the urge, to go inside,
in order to make my peace with you,
yes, just in case I died.
Now I’ve never been, a religious man,
it never was my need,
each day I’ve lived, hand to mouth,
you see, I have no time for greed.
My clothes are tatty and ragged,
from charity shops and such,
the right leg shattered in the war,
relying, on a wooden crutch.
Hot baths and showers are a no-no,
simply a trip to the local stream,
and as for a relaxing holiday,
well, that’s been but a dream.
No Birthday cards, do I receive,
long ago, I forgot my age,
but at least, I can walk freely,
unlike, a rabbit in a cage.
I saw ladies, wearing flowered hats,
lovely flowing dresses too,
made up, with paint and powder,
just to converse with you.
Gentlemen wearing suits and ties,
polished shoes, all very posh,
each one parked an expensive car,
I could tell, they’d lots dosh.
Reverently, I removed my hat,
as I walked in through the door,
those ladies all looked down on me,
I was being pitied, for being poor?
Then my shoulder received, a nasty tap,
“You can’t enter here like that,
be on your way, you filthy tramp,
along with your grubby hat.”
I explained I’d come for a chat with you,
his menacing stare, I feared,
“Be off, we don’t want the likes of you,
in your long hair and unkempt beard.”
As I left, I saw your picture Lord,
hanging there, within your house,
sporting long hair and a beard,
just like this, unfortunate Scouse.
In future, I’ll pray down in the woods,
a cathedral of my own,
they can keep their cars, and lovely clothes,
their homes and telephones.