|
We've a Gorgon at our organ,
who turns our hearts to stone
by
playing all the hymns we sing
at tempos of her own.
I reckon she is very old --
a hundred years or more
--
she falls asleep at sermon time
I know, I've heard her snore!
She only has one speed, I guess,
and that must be dead
slow,
'cos when we've sung the last Amen
she's still a bar to go.
She just ignores what Parson says
about us having fun,
she peers at
all those pesky notes
and finds them -- one by one.
I reckon you could have a cup
of tea between each bar,
and catch up
on the daily news
and how the neighbours are.
And if we try to hurry her
by pushing her along,
she puts her foot
down on the swell
and drowns our rebel song.
There's a Gorgon at our organ --
and I fear she means to
play
till we all turn into statues,
and cannot steal away.
© Colin Gibson (2000)
|
