‘Peace on Earth’ the children trilled – well, most of them at least
For, sad to say, young Nigel was being a perfect beast!
He scowled and scuffed his sandal, & picked at the gold on his crown.
He really is a vandal thought Miss, with an anxious frown.
Sweet Josie was truly angelic as she led the Heavenly Host
Her movements so fluid & graceful, her proud Mum would later boast
One angel picked a fingernail; another scratched her nose;
Another, with legs akimbo, had a most un-angel-like pose!

The shepherds, on the whole were good – until Jason trod on Pete’s robe
And Peter did an Emergency Stop - & his crook hit him on the nose!
It only bled a little bit – but Mary burst into tears
Dropping the Infant in her fright – but Joseph caught one of his ears
And flung him in the Crib face down, with posterior up in the air!
Poor Miss had yet a deeper frown as she fought hard not to despair.
The cattle lowed so loudly, one couldn’t hear Jeremy speak –
So Hazel shouted for him (& our ears rang for a week!)

Susan put Jesus the right way up, & adjusted his halo once more
And it only got bent a teeny bit when she dropped it on the floor!
Miss so wished she’d worn a cotton top – her sweatshirt was so hot;
Her poor damp palms were clammy & her temples were starting to
T-H-R-O-B
The – suddenly it was over!! Suddenly ‘no more sweat’
And, feeling so moved, we all agreed
‘Twas the best Nativity yet!

Copyright Pam Fortune 2001

Mary's Poetry waz 'ere first!

Who's Been Sleeping In My Bed?

A shapeless form in the bed
She lies so still
Is she asleep
Or just ignoring me?
I will not be ignored
She stretches and I breathe her name
Should I disturb her
Or let her rest
Nervously, I touch her head
and one eye opens
She looks at me, questioning
And then at last she speaks

"Miaowwww"

Copyright Mary Petrie 1999

LAST REQUEST

The rain dampened Bristol City Centre
as my bus passed the new Children’s Hospital
And paused outside the B.R.I. (main entrance).
MAX WAITING TIME: TEN MINUTES shouts the sign.
Traffic obeying the red light ahead didn’t keep us that long,
but long enough.
Long enough to notice the two men hovering near the sign.

Refugees from the ward,
they puffed their cigarettes
and inhaled the smoke like nervous 12-year -olds.
Clad in pyjamas and dressing gown,
feet in bedroom slippers unsuited to rain,
the ward seemed almost inviting,
or at least, it would be dry.

One man moved to go back inside,
but the other was still finishing his cigarette.

Meanwhile the light ahead went green,
and the traffic moved forward.
Not quickly,
but quickly enough.
Quickly enough for me to miss the end of the saga.
I’ll never know whether the second man did finish his cigarette,
But I hope so.
It could be
His Last.

Copyright Mary Petrie 2000