Us in Rhyme

A fun poem based loosely on the tune/song Men of Harlech

Verse 1

We have heard from some great preachers,
From the pulpit try to teach us,
How the Spirit needs to reach us
When we're half asleep.

And all the congregation,
Pray for their salvation,
The hour has come,
Their bums are numb
From the preacher's conversation.

Bottesford Chapel rise from slumber,
Has the steward cleansed the tumbler?
Shall we sing the last hymn number?
Methodist relief!

Verse 2

And we have our circuit vicar,
Whom with training worship's slicker,
All the same it seems no quicker
When we're fast asleep.

And all the congregation,
Fidget with frustration,
The sermon's soon,
It's half past noon!
There's frowns of consternation.

Bottesford Chapel patiently waiting,
In the pews deliberating,
Does the lunch need resuscitating?
Hasten the last tune.

Verse 3

The organist provides the music,
Playing notes he sometimes chooses,
Trying to wake us from our snoozes
When we go to sleep.

And all the congregation,
Sing in exultation,
With one voice,
They make a noise,
That needs investigation.

Bottesford Chapel born in song,
Skipped a chorus - got it wrong.
Thirteen verses far too long,
Singing out of key!

Verse 4

Then there's stewards for church welfare,
Want our gifts so make sure we're there,
To fill the pews this is their main prayer,
Even if asleep.

And all the congregation,
Not wishing condemnation,
With cash in hand,
Give all they can,
To free them from temptation.

Bottesford Chapel celebrating,
204 years participating,
Here's to future undertaking,
Thru' eternity of time.

  The Methodist Curch