To make you laugh! or cry!

“Oh, Rector, please Christen our baby,

Next Sunday at a quarter past three

For at four there’s the christening party

With champagne instead of plain tea.

Oh! why must we come in the morning?

And surely you can’t expect us

To line up with six other families!

Of course we are making a fuss!

Why ours is a most special baby

Of her we are terribly proud.

She must have her own private Baptism

She can’t be just one of a crowd.

We can’t wait until the ‘First Sunday’

This really is urgent you know.

Yes, I know she’s a year old already

But that Sunday our prize dog’s on show

Very well, I suppose we’ve no option,

But prefer our convenience to yours.

I must say this business of baptism

Seems to be all rules and laws.

To say that the congregation ‘Receive’ her;

That really is quite absurd.

We’ve no wish, for ourselves, or our baby

To mix with the common herd.

Now I’m sure you’ll be charmed with the godparents –

Dear Aunt Mary, who is eighty three:

Well, of course, she won’t live much longer,

But our baby in her will’s sure to be.

And we’re proud of dear Lady Helen,

She’s Jewish, I think, truth be told,

But a great social asset as godmother,

And she’s giving a mug made of gold.

My husband’s old rich Uncle Bertie,

We’re lucky to have him at all –

He’s ‘anti’ the church and religion,

But for us, he’s prepared to ‘play ball’.

What! You say you will not accept them?

The sponsors you want we can’t find

For none of our friends, us included,

Has, every since time out of mind,

Gone to church, except for a christening,

Or a fashionable wedding, so gay.

Well, Rector, if you are so awkward


(So there!!)


Taken from ‘The Link’ Harare