Tis shocking kauld says he
Ach is right, tis shocking kauld
As the pair a them stood there in open tags
T’will kill the germs says he
Ach is right, t’will kill the germs
And little more to say for smoking fags
You’ll not go in for one says he
I’ll not, I’m heading home
Nodding towards the jilted message bags
Ach you know yourself says he
Ach is right, suppose I do
Aye tis kauld says he between the last two drags
It’s not that long ago that there would be two masses in the one church on a Sunday morning. To be honest i couldn’t tell you what the crowd was like for the first one because it was always the second one that i was brought along to.
I’d imagine it was for the more serious mass attendee. The second one seemed to be more about gathering strays. And though less of a test there would be those that would arrive late and leave early. Those who would talk their way through the sermon and for whom it appeared more a social occasion than a benediction. And maybe it was. Maybe they mightn’t see too many again for the week and this was their outlet.
And when it was over and they’d lingered outside for a while, those with little else to do would tip down to the pub to continue the socialising. Those with more on their plate would head for home.
And this was a ritual as well. The same faces traveling in the same direction each week, winter, hail or shine. And then when you stop going you don’t see them again and you wonder are they still fulfilling the ritual? Still going for one or thinking about it and then thinking the better of it.