Headed for Paradise

The Vicar, Reverend Birkenshaw

Was a man deep filled with gloom,

He often regretted his calling

On a rain filled afternoon,

The church was old, so damp and cold

And the vestry far too small,

He’d stand so grim for the morning hymn,

No joy in it at all.

 

The Bishop told him to lift his game

To stand at the door and smile,

‘There’s plenty of curates want your job,

Leave you by a country mile.’

He bowed his head, and he’d try, he said,

But the Bishop made him curse,

Of all the living’s he could have had

Saint Anselm’s was the worst.

 

The congregation was paltry

And they never had filled the plate,

They’d toss in their frequent flyers

With a coin too old to date,

There wasn’t a single gardener

For the graveyard round the church,

The ground was soggy and overgrown

And it made the headstones lurch.

 

Then Roger Bodge had arrived one day

On the end of his mother’s arm,

She said, ‘I want you to teach the boy,

To keep him away from harm,

He’s lots of muscle but not much brain

The cord was around his neck,

He’s a sandwich short of a picnic, but

You can teach the boy respect.’

 

So Birkenshaw saw the boy was raw,

And sent him out in the grounds,

Straightening up the headstones and

Cutting the willows down,

He gave him a rusty shovel, said:

‘Now you’ll be digging the graves,

The Lord was simply a carpenter,

It’s only the meek he saves.’

 

So Roger sweated and dug a grave,

The vicar said, ‘Doing well!’

But Roger frowned, deep in the ground

He thought he was through to hell.

He stood aside at a burial,

And watched as the coffin dropped,

‘He wasn’t bad,’ he said to the lad,

‘It’s just that his heart had stopped.’

 

‘Does anyone ever get out,’ said Bodge,

And looked in the vicar’s eyes,

The vicar frowned, ‘No, once in the ground

You’re headed for paradise.’

So Roger smiled, and his face lit up

‘We’re sending him off in style?’

The vicar thought of the Devil’s maw

But humoured him for a while.

 

The vicar was fond of his tipple, and

He kept his Port in the nave,

When staggering back to the manse one night

He fell in a new dug grave,

He called and called, but nobody heard

So he spent the night in the ground,

When Roger called in the morning

Birkenshaw was not to be found.

 

He wandered out with his shovel there

And he heard the vicar shout,

Found him lying, down in the ground

Too deep to pull him out,

He thought of what the vicar had said

So disregarded his cries,

And brought the shovel down on his head

To send him to paradise.

 

The Bishop came and he sought him out,

‘Just where is the vicar, lad?’

‘I’ve just completed filling him in,

I think that he’s rather glad.

He couldn’t wait for a wooden box

So he jumped right in ahead.’

The Bishop groaned, and he made his moan,

‘Oh the paperwork!’ he said.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

Now that is ripe. I can imagine many a man sent to hell just such. Man the descriptions you give are par excellence.I could smell the mold in the musty air. Feel the wind as it blew on through . Felt the floor boards trembling as the the devil demanded his due

[TPK Stories]

Another great story, David!

[TL Boehm]

humor noire. This is actually quite humorous - and I love the tone - the words used
The vicar was fond of his tipple, and
He kept his Port in the nave,
When staggering back to the manse one night
He fell in a new dug grave,
wonderful story.

[Foxemerald]

Oh, dear, the poor vicar, we might say. Nevertheless, I think that he may have dug his own grave quite literally if he was waiting for the lad to come and finish the job, courtesy of his own advice. It seems as though the irony is all on the vicar's head, and a potpourri of paperwork, at that! You've woven this with a delightful narrative intertwined with a refreshing sense of humor.

[Tomahawk Joe]

A dark poem and yet somehow grippingly entertaining

[Keith]

Oh thats a ripper David. Dark witty humour all the way through, that vicar describes so many clergy that I have met.

[Lena M. P.]

Only you would go there with that ending. Made me laugh out loud. Great piece as always. The rhyme and the rhythm flowed effortlessly with this one from one stanza to the next.

[Marie]

A dark comety here. Roger took things a little too literally.

[SyberRose]

Another enchanting little tale from you...always mesmerizing from beginning to end David...
A little spooky digging those graves i'm sure...Rose

[Onku Ghosh]

Awesome!!! Very interesting and humorous.You are a brilliant poet.......there is no doubt about that.You can spin tales at the drop of a hat......hats off to you!!!!