Slowly steals the dawn
in a grey December way
tired night has closed her eyes
as if to say
Oh let all the world be light
each darkened room
‘til I return
Father John
wakes early
dons a faded robe
breathes a prayer
then hurries where
the air is cold
It’s Sunday come round again
maybe one face more or less
in church today
Oh can’t you see Father John?
Oh can’t you see Father John?
Miss Pringle and Miss Prendergast
and George who does the brass
are there
to say the words they’ve said
for twenty years
and no-one knows or cares,
safe in the security
of thing they see and want to be
believing in a word for growing old
Oh can’t you see Father John
no-one seems to want your words of love
any more
Can’t you see Father John?
Like the stain-glass window fathers
in last September cobwebs
God does not belong here anymore
Benediction said and done the echoes die
and silence fills the walls
High above him on the wind
the rooks sail in the torn winter sky
Just an old man with frosted hair
believing a dream
of love
Father John
Father John
Father John
