‘The name comes from ‘chair’, he said
‘A comfy, lounging, chair, come to that… for ladies’
All very majestic, the cathedral ‘chair’,
Red, blocky sandstone,
Probably here for yonks,
Despite a rock-hard rock actually being soft –
Like, how does that work?
Before the Normans he reckons
Maybe, it was them Angled Saxons that built it first;
But it would have just been a church then;
Small and angled. Saxon, even.
And no chair for chicks neither.
Anyway, tell all that to the jackdaws,
‘cos they couldn’t give one for it
The buggers;
Romping round in sworls
Looping the gargoyles gleefully
Shitting on their heads
As the water pisses from their gobs;
Screaming up the tower
Daring one another not to pull out
From butting the flying buttresses.
God knows what it’s like
Behind the tower louvre boards
They scream from there –
Like lads leaving school,
Packing their bags, secretly
10 minutes before the end of lesson;
Scream out, like streamers –
Chaotically all-directioned,
Squabbling, chattering, shouting
At anyone who cares to listen,
But especially to the old man
Who, same time every day,
Feeds them titbits,
From his cathedra outside the gates.
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