Unrepentant Poem by Andy Brookes

The Aunts to their horror found
That I was a little heathen
And so to church was bound.
Six years old and not baptised,
Neither could believe their eyes.

Straight to the font you must go,
For out your soul the devil throw
And in the holy waters drowned.
This is so that you can be saved
Not go unshriven to your grave.

But all the churching did no good
Could give me faith as it should.
Of all the parsons words Iprofound
I took no notice, heard not a sound.
I did not listen and soon forgot.

This sad story I do tell
For I am surly bound for hell.
Down the slippery slope I glide,
In the hell fire to be fried
And from this fate I cannot run
But getting there it sure was fun.