Dermot J Archer
Ulsters Dogs Of War
He would have said the mob mistook
The church door for a bottle bank
But for the equal number of battering-ram lager cans.
Saturday night’s partially inaudible din dims
To dawn when Father Jim’s doberman
Gently pawed from the front to report to him
As eloquently as Kate Adie might.
With shovel and brush the priest began
Reconsecrating the church grounds in time for
Early morning Sunday mass. He was greeted by
The owner of an equally insomnious dog:
‘Hope you don’t mind me saying, sir,
But you’re a disgrace breaking the sabbath
And at this time of the morning –
Call yourself a clergyman?’
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