Father Joe’s Hymn
for the Lads at the Back of the Church
In the town where I learned about drinking
There was one solid rule that all kept;
You'd show up for mass on a Sunday
No matter how where or whether you slept.
You'd find a place near the church door,
Against a wall or a pillar you'd lean
And stay awake for the priest and his sermon
And wonder what his preaching could mean.
Now some priests they'd preach for the goodly,
Sing their hymns for the pure of heart
And tell of the rewards of heaven,
The wings the white robes and the harps.
And the lads at the back sort of wander.
Their attention's not easy to keep.
And the head inclined posture of reverence
Could be a head that's nodding in sleep.
For when sunlight's first shaft of the morning
Cuts its piercing hole through your fog
And the bells of the chapel are calling
And you crave for the "hair of the dog".
Then the bright shining lights of paradise,
The cheerful cherubs row upon row,
The harps and the chorus of angels,
These are joys a sore head could forego.
Not to mention the trumpets of glory!
There's a lot about heaven you'd think
That makes it a place to steer of
The day after you've had a good drink.
But Father Joe, he preached for the sinners.
The good folk he figured were saved
And co when he told about heaven
He offered sinners the comfort they craved.
Indeed he could hold our attention.
Father Joe got his sermons just right.
For the sinners he knew Sunday morning
Was the time after Saturday night.
He knew how they felt Sunday morning,
Knew the needs that were dearest to them.
His sermons were full of forgiveness
And here are the words of his hymn;
(Sung) There'll be no hangovers in heaven!
No headaches in that region afar.
You'll wake as fresh as a daisy
No matter how long you've been in the bar.
With no fungus on your tongue in the morning,
No foul odors your sweet breath will mar.
There'll be no hangovers in heaven
But bury me with an aspirin - just in case there are.
- Amen.
Denis Ahern.
