A poem I wrote while I was Verger at Selby Abbey

 

And prior to this each wedding guest

Arrives bedecked in Sunday best

The groom and ushers like cock birds

Winking, whispering knowing words

At length appears this Wednesday’s queen

Alighting from her limousine

Then with her dress the bridesmaids fussed

Last minute details to adjust

Her father proudly standing by

Subconsciously feels his bow tie

As nervously they walk the aisle

The last few yards of love’s long mile

I watch beneath the Squinty Arch

As Roger plays “The Wedding March”

Today the wedding’s in the nave

And solemnly the couple gave

Their pledges and their faithful vows

To love each other through their rows

The bride and groom then plight their troth

(They never speak it loud enough!)

The vicar sets an easy tone

His jokes make us politely groan

They sign the book; she takes his name

They walk back out the way they came.

 

I close the doors, their wedding done

 

(Let’s hope that it’s their only one.)