Pancake Tuesday 

Pancakes of a Tuesday

I’ll have my fill tonight

With lent waiting there

To maul me of a Wednesday

40 days in a desert

I think I’ll take a drink 

Whiskey tasted pure

Of the Thursday 

By the end I was unsure

If it was the pancakes 

Or the religion 

But by Friday I was

Luring myself from the bed

Wishing the child of Prague

Would cease to stare

At john f kennedys picture

Beneath Pope pious’s

Lenten grin 

I’m giving it up for wisdom

The sugar and the wine

The Guinness and the cider

No more I’ll go a smoking

No more I’ll walk the evil path

At least not until Saturday 

When my mind recalls

The truth I forgot to remember

I don’t believe in any of it at all

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