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Read more poems by Robert Service: Robert Service Poems at Poetry X.

I burned my fingers on the stove
          And wept with bitterness;
But poor old Auntie Maggie strove
          To comfort my distress.
Said she: 'Think, lassie, how you'll burn
          Like any wicked besom
In fires of hell if you don't learn
          Your Shorter Catechism.'

A man's chief end is it began,
          (No mention of a woman's),
To glorify--I think it ran,
          The God who made poor humans.
And as I learned, I thought: if this--
          (My distaste growing stronger),
The Shorter Catechism is,
          Lord save us from the longer.

The years have passed and I begin
          (Although I'm far from clever),
To doubt if when we die in sin
          Our bodies grill forever.
Now I've more surface space to burn,
          Since I am tall and lissom,
I think it's hell enough to learn
          The Shorter Catechism.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 1:08 AM | Viewed: 3121 times

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