Father Gerry

Deer Gerry, You find me in thoughtful, refractive, medieval mood. I have a paw-shant for mediation Gerry.I find in life, one should STAP and look back. Retrace one's steps. Revisit the past and discect one's actions, or indeed, inactions.
My past life is a memory of harmonica bliss. I was born with grate beauty. And as I manured, my unnatural, faerie beauty grew ten fold.
I feasted my eyes on my sun Bon Jovi. There he sat at the table. Making the buttered heels of pan loves disappear like a veritable Who-Deeny.
I well remember the nite that Bon Jovi sprang from my lions, like a bald, red-faced goblin.
The midwife wrapped the newly born in an old coat and placed him in my motherly arms.
I held the bawling wain close to my bisom and crooned.
"Welcome to my world. Won't you come on in".
Lost in revereee, I utterised the thoughts in my head to the pan loaf heel gobbler.
"Attend me Bon Jovi" I said.
"I have thoughts that I wish to share with you.
I have feelings I wish too discuss.
I have ideas that require feedback.
In short, I wish to run a pear of nickers up the flag pole and sea who salutes them".
Bon Jovi, a big fan of Frazier, the american Sigh- kite-wrist stopped chewing and said.
"I'm-listening".
"'Tis about Gerry I wish to vocalise" I said.
The lump of a cub, laid down his pan loaf heel and said.
"Go on. I'm-listening".
"Konsider this!" I cried.
"It was knot hungry or want that drove Gerry Anderson too Radio Foul. KNOW!
It was a God scent vacation.
Up in Radio Foul" I cried.
"Gerry is doing the work of a priest!"
Bon Jovi broke wind with grate decorum and yelled.
"Bye the shinning brass harness on Dan Murphy's ass.
"Expand!" yelled Bon Jovi.
"Expand or sit down and forever hold your piece".
"Does knot Gerry" I said
"Or rather, does knot FATHER Gerry
heer confusions every morning from half past ten until the sixth pip"?
"Bye the salted herring of the good ship Lollypop" cried Bon Jovi.
"You have hit the head on the nail.
People fone up and admit to their Indi--scretations
And does knot Gerry end every confusion bye saying.
"God bless you my sun?"
"Gerry Anderson" I utterised.
"Is a living saint. Gerry Anderson wood nock Mother Thresa into a cocked hat. What other parish, apart from the Vatican offers the chance of confussions five days a weak?"
"NONE!" yelled Bon Jovi.
"Butt tell me this and tell me know more. If you were on your death bed. Wood you make your last confusion to Gerry?"
"Knot on your Nelly" I roared.
"Sure, wouln't he go and blab it all round Derry and surrounding districts.
"If Gerry is the priest" said Bon Jovi.
"What does that make the wee boy?"
"The curate I said. "Good in places".
From a refrective and all no'ing,
ROSIE RYAN xxx