The seven day song cycle

One: the wisdom of Solamundy

em = By Tony Smith

This is the tale of a man called David.

At his black birth they estimated

that things seemed well enough on Monday.

Schooled, trained, but not indoctrinated

his heart still black as the night on Tuesday.

But there are those with whom

to be a friend makes you guilty. So,

wanting something to do on Wednesday

they decided his fate flak-jacketed

-- no need for charge or trial -- and

summarily carried it out on Thursday.

Grieved, tut-tutted, bad luck for a son

nobody's child orphaned by Friday.

Inquest over for the weekend burial --

wouldn't want to spoil the footy serial.

And one problem less at the pub on Saturday.

Nothing round here changes much, eh?

Wonder what they'll pray ... come Sunday.

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