Cathedral Jackdaws

‘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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