Each text
Would the bishop vex
Where he to know
So
Let us draw a discreet veil
Over his daughter’s conversation
Lest he turn pale
And the congregation
Find something other than hymns
To sing. Yet I think
That I see the devil wink.
I hear him whisper low
“You know
The bishop also
Has his sins …”.
If all our fantasies where laid bare
For the world to see,
What would happen to you and me?
The bishop would no longer care
To have us round for tea!
Or if he did so
He might whisper low
“I have the same desires
But Hell’s fires
Are hot.
Besides I have got
A dragon for a wife,
But oh how I dream
Of whipped cream …!”
An interesting expression
Is “the world’s oldest profession”.
Many a confession
Has the priest heard.
Mums the word.
He knows the flesh is weak
And will not speak
Of the desire
Burning in peasant and squire,
For discretion
Is his profession.
K Morris - Poet 