Skin Deep

The sidesman was always impeccably dressed,

Small wonder he turned up his nose

When a stranger appeared in an old, string-necked vest

And trainers with holes in the toes.

Like his sidesman, the vicar was smartly dressed too

With his cassock draped down to the floor

And his bright scarlet cope, embroidered in blue

With a hint of pea-green and azure.

The sidesman decided to make a complaint

When the service was over at last,

For the vicar, like him, was a spic and span saint

And the stranger had left him aghast.

The vicar, disrobing, was not at his best

For a vicar, as everyone knows,

Wears under his cassock an old string-necked vest

And trainers with holes in the toes.

The sidesman was shocked, but he learned, I believe,

That appearance is no sign of sin.

Outward appearances often deceive,

What matters is what lies within.