It’s time for church.
Where are my gloves, my scarf, my heavy sweater?
I must remember to ask poor Jane if her frostbite’s any better.
I’m glad I bought warm winter boots, although I do remember,
I didn’t think I’d be wearing them in the middle of September.
Our poor men go bare-headed – its our tradition its true –
They’d be warmer in a furry hat like an Hasiddic Jew.
But things are really looking up, the future now is rosy.
Who ever thought the time would come when we said ‘The church is cosy’?