Jane and I joined the church choir

On the same day, as I recall

I was 10 years old I think

But for my age was small

Jane was three years younger

But to me seemed older

She was a natural leader

When with her, I felt bolder

She was a mischief-maker

Always into bother

I was glad that we became

A double-act together

We entered into the sacred world

Of anthems, hymns and psalms

The sermon only amused us

When the vicar flailed his arms

The paltry congregation,

By the choir outnumbered,

Seemed untouched by the outporurings

As they shut their eyes and slumbered

For talking, hymn books landed

Heavily on our heads

Wielded by the choirmaster’s son

And his sadistic friend

Jane thought of an idea

Of how to punish them

By giving them a present

“A present?” I said “Erm….”

“Don’t worry,” Jane assured me

The wrapping will be fancy

But what’s inside they’ll soon find out

Will not be very classy

The present thus was opened

In the vestry as we dressed

Jane and I stifled our giggles

What’s inside, they’d never guess

When the inner box was opened

No chocolate or humbugs

Were found inside; What was revealed

Was a great big fat black slug!

Our naughty escapades included

Hiding up in the organ loft

And another time under the altar

We got an awful telling off

Jane’s next idea was daring

We both thought it a classic

It involved secreting apples

In the pockets of our cassocks

In the middle of the sermon

Jane whispered “one, two, three”

We then withdrew our apples

And crunched simultaneously

This latest caper you might guess

Went just a bit too far

The consequence was serious

We got chucked out of the choir

When Mum opened the letter

And learned that I’d been bad

She was furious, but wisely said

“We can never tell your Dad.”

So for several months on Sundays

Both at Evensong and Matins

I sat among the sleepers

This became my pattern

But on choir practice Fridays

I had to walk the streets

Of the village, feeling foolish

And worried who I’d meet

It was finally considered

I could rejoin the choir

But without the japes and mischief

It was no fun any more

I finally left the choir

At the age of seventeen

The hymns and psalms being meaningless

Just as they’d always been

The poem is all true - and we got up to a lot more besides! However, the present we gave to the choirmaster's son and his friend was actually some mud and not a slug. I think I changed it into a slug in the poem for dramatic effect.