Blame the Vicar

I was given a copy of this today from someone in one of my congregations…it’s written by John Betjeman

When things go wrong it’s rather tame To find we are ourselves to blame, It gets the trouble over quicker To go and blame things on the Vicar.   The Vicar, after all, is paid To keep us bright and undismayed. The Vicar is more virtuous too Than lay folks such as me and you.  He never swears, he never drinks, He never should say what he thinks.   His collar is the wrong way round, And that is why he’s simply bound To be the sort of person who Has nothing very much to do But take the blame for what goes wrong And sing in tune at Evensong.   For what’s a Vicar really for Except to cheer us up? What’s more, He shouldn’t ever, ever tell If there is such a place as Hell, For if there is it’s certain he Will go to it as well as we.   The Vicar should be all pretence And never, never give offence. To preach on Sunday is his task And lend his mower when we ask And organize our village fêtes And sing at Christmas with the waits And in his car to give us lifts And when we quarrel, heal the rifts.   To keep his family alive He should industriously strive In that enormous house he gets, And he should always pay his debts, For he has quite six pounds a week, And when we’re rude he should be meek And always turn the other cheek.   He should be neat and nicely dressed With polished shoes and trousers pressed, For we look up to him as higher Than anyone, except the Squire.