THE SERMON ON THE PO

I was sitting on an up-turned wheel-barrow, legs akimbo outside my cunt'ry abode.
I had my girlish elbows on my plump knees and my round, wind-reddened, elf'in visage was cupped in my strong, yet feminine hands. My matteded mass of red hare hung round my full moon face, in ringlets of hirisute beauty and decorm.
I was admiring the beauty of nature, the air was full of buzzing insectos, flys wasps, bees and small, minute midges, infinitesimally, petite in the extreem.
I smiled, demurly, as a little midge landed on my well scrubbed knee, how small it was, and yet, it was alive, one of GOds creatures, I arched my swan-like neck and roared,
"All things brite and beautuful, the good Lord made them all"
Then as it prepared for take-off, I squashed it with my thumb. I marvelled at its little squashed guts, just like we humans, it two, was full of shit.
Then my girlish occulars were drawn to a veritable dancing cloud of horse flies over the midden.
The son turned their transparent, fragile wings into the colours of the rainbow, as they hoovered above the midden, eating dung with their mandables. "Feast on, my little ones" I cried, "If dung is your food of choice, who am I to disagree".
Suddenly, my elf'in ears were harked to a wild racket coming threw the bog, it was my sun, the adorable wee BOn Jovi, coming home from skool,I pinned back my shell-like and listened.
"They were tattered they were torn, at le-derriere they were worn, THE RED FLANNEL DRAWERS THAT MAGGIE WORE".
Soon, his large, round, cannon-ball head, appeared above the swaying rushes. A head, that wood give any turnip, a run for its money. He swaggered up two me, threw his skool bag into the nettles and grinned. "What the hell are you grinning at?" I yelled.
"Big news" said the grinning gulpin, "Yes, siree Bob, big, big, news".
"What about?" I yelled. "RELIGION" roared Bon Jovi, "Yes, siree Bob, big, big news about religion". "What is the news?" I yelled, "Come on Bon Jovi, spit it out".
Bon JOvi, gave an auld hateful smile and said, "Don't rush the cub, wait 'till I decompose myself and all wool be revealed" The cub sat down on an upturned po that had a slow puncture and said.
"Behold, I Bon Jovi, bring you news today, that wool cause much gnashing of teeth and grinding of gums, the priest was in skool too-day, and he taut us thus"
I looked at Bon Jovi in awe and fear and once again asked myself, "Who is Bon Jovi? and why has he bean scent among us?" He reminded me so much of, you know who"
There was fire in Bon Jovi's eyes and zeal was fare leaping out of him as he roared.
"LIMBO, has bean done away with, it is know more, it has ceased two exist"
"What about the wee wains that were in there?" I asked.
"They all qualified for early relase" roared Bon Jovi "And have bean scent free"
"The devil, hell and sin are know more" yelled Bon Jovi. "The devil was just made up too frighten us and there is know hells fire in hell, it is just a plaice that the peeple feel depresed and wild low". "Like Gortin" I muttered. "Yes, and surrounding districts" said Bon Jovi.
"The good news is" said Bon Jovi "That we are all going two some kind of heaven, if God made us, we must be good, ergo-we kan't be bad, God doesn't make bad things".
"Two hell, with that" I roared, "Its knot fare, why should some preverted gulpin, end up in the same plaice as me? Its knot fare, so its knot"
"May I remind you of the workers in the vineyard" said Bon Jovi, "They each received a penny, though some had worked threw the heat of the day".
"Too hell, with graipe pickers" I roared, "I want two sea soles twisting and writhing in the hot pit of hell" Bon Jovi looked at me oh so sternly and said.
"Take care, that you may knot be one of the twisters and writhers"
"What else did the priest say?" I muttered.
Bon Jovi arose from the po and said, "The three virtures, are faith, hope and charity, of these, charity is the gratest, so he wants too sea more money in your church envelope, 10 pence, don't cut it no more. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go walk-about in the bog, once again I must renounce Satan and and all his works and pomps. God bless you my child, when I return, I wool partake of Punjanna tee and the buttered heel from a pan loaf"
I arose from that place and told know wan what I had herd or scene, well, I don't want too sea the cub locked up in the loony bin. do I?