Kids Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

The prayer existed in English - came from a different shore,
Candles were lit to read and write, much was treated as an exit,
It was a text based on dry land: the sea wasn’t in it.
And the melody, sung by the choir, rose from the floor,
Priests were dancing, one level down from the pulpit.
It was different then, I thought you knew, there was a crypt,
Children went there for the songs, then belonged to the corps.