Jesus and the tavern

Jesus and a priest sat in the pub

County Durham fellside fair

Between them a big black dog

They laugh and smile at each other 

As they dine heartily upon Sunday lunch

Church of England through and through 

with a side portion of quirkiness

Thrown in for good luck 

Outside a cuckoo call from the North 

first of the year before the swallows arrive.

Long live the King, gleefully the vicar proposed 

Whilst Jesus looks on, his eyes smile

Seven Hundred and ninety one said the black dog

The irregular rhythm of steel on ceramic pauses

Dead in mass shootings since 1986 the dog interjects,

detached, dead panned, defiant.

Turning towards the black dog, free will,

Jesus shrugs in a nonchalant way

and their second amendment the vicar pipes in. 

The black dog takes a moment; to ponder a retort 

Cocking his head to the side 

Thou shalt not kill ! 

he spoke slow and paced

Laughing eyes evaporate to a caucasian steel blue

Free will, as the God of Abraham arrives

And without free will faith is nothing, the cleric pipes in.

With a long sigh the black dog nods

Lays his head prone between paws

Jesus and the vicar peruse the deserts

Whilst the black dog ponders

If today his collar feels tight.