Poem by Robert William Service

The Shorter Catechism

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.

1. Highland Hospitality
2. Violet de Vere
3. L'Envoi (I guess this is the final score)
4. Afternoon Tea
5. New Year's Eve

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