All the village street is humming.
What's the news? The bishop's coming.
All the Mothers' Union say
They'll be baking cakes today.
The bishop will be asked to try
Mrs Brewer's apple pie.
The bishop will be asked to taste
Mrs Stewer's almond paste.
The bishop will be given part
Of Mrs Gurney's cherry tart.
The bishop will, without a question,
Leave with violent indigestion.
In the vicarage the news
Means a raking out of flues
And a polishing of shoes
And a brandishing of brooms
And a turning out of rooms
And a putting on of kettles
And a burnishing of metals.
Such a dusting, such a mending,
You would think the world was ending.
After half an hour of smoking
Which had left the vicar choking,
At last the drawing room fire is burning
And it's time we should be turning
To his wife and daughter seated
All things ready and completed.
The vicar's little daughter Florence! –
Questions pour from her in torrents
Which her agitated mother
Cannot really check or smother
Save by giving information
Even in this situation.
Thus she waits the bishop's coming,
Nervously her fingers drumming.
And to relieve this strained delaying
I'll record what they are saying,
And to make it clear and neater
Use another style and metre.
'Pray, what is a bishop?' says dear little Floss
To her mother, 'Oh tell me, please do.'
'A bishop, my dear, wears a pectoral cross
And is much more important than you.'
'And pray, why is that?' says this sweet little thing
With her passionate love of research.
'Because,' says her mother, 'he's made by the king,
Or the queen, a great lord in the Church.
'And if you will look at the coin of our realm
Near the name of the monarch it saith
Fid. Def. or F.D., which is Latin, you see,
And means the Defender of Faith.
Our bishops by bishops are always ordained.
They lay hands on their heads. And the track
Of these consecrations, our Church has maintained
To the twelve first apostles goes back.
But remember, dear Florence, that under the skin
They are men (the apostles were too)
With the usual dose of original sin
And the grace to withstand it, like you.'
'And if they are ordinary people, Mamma,
Then can they do just as they like?
Is that why the bishop drives round in a car
While Daddy rides round on a bike?'
'Your father has only to visit the sick
And call on parochial electors,
While the bishop must go in motor-car quick
To admonish recalcitrant rectors.
Then dash up to Parliament, speak in debates
And sit in Church House on committees,
For erecting new churches on building estates
By selling old churches in cities.
There are other things too that a bishop must do
Which seem more important to me,
Such as being the friend and the father in God
To the clergymen here in his see.
In the church of the Celts, which is old, very old,
And brought Christ to the West before Rome
Send Augustine to Kent, they used, we are told,
To keep all their bishops at home.
And ordaining new priests and confirming the youth
Is really what bishops are for –
To ordain and confirm and, to tell you the truth,
I am sorry they're made to do more.
So soon, when you see our dear bishop processing
In mitre and cope down the lane,
Remember the hand which he raises in blessing
Has also the power to ordain.'
'Oh! thank you very much, Mamma,
How very well informed you are,
I wonder if you now could tell ....'
'Thank goodness, Florence, there's the bell.
The bishop's waiting at the door.
So do smooth out your pinafore,
And don't ask questions any more.'
