| HE staggered in from night and frost and fog | |
| And lampless streets: he’d guzzled like a hog | |
| And drunk till he was dazed. And now he came | |
| To hear—he couldn’t call to mind the name— | |
| But he’d been given a ticket for the show, | 5 |
| And thought he’d (hiccup) chance his luck and go. | |
| |
| The hall swam in his eyes, and soaring light | |
| Was dazzling splendid after the dank night. | |
| He sat and blinked, safe in his cushioned seat, | |
| And licked his lips; he’d like a brandy, neat. | 10 |
| |
| ‘Who is the King of Glory?’ they were saying, | |
| He pricked his ears; what was it? Were they praying?... | |
| By God, it might be Heaven! For singers stood | |
| Ranked in pure white; and everyone seemed good; | |
| And clergymen were sitting meekly round | 15 |
| With joyful faces, drinking in the sound; | |
| And holy women, and plump whiskered men. | |
| Could this be Heaven? And was he dead? And then | |
| They all stood up; the mighty chorus broke | |
| In storms of song above those blameless folk; | 20 |
| And ‘Hallelujah, Hallelujah!’ rang | |
| The burden of the triumph that they sang. | |
| |
| He gasped; it must be true; he’d got to Heaven | |
| With all his sins that seventy times were seven; | |
| And whispering ‘Hallelujah’ mid their shout, | 25 |
| He wondered when Lord God would turn him out. | |
