TEENYBOP THEOLOGIAN

When I was teenage - difficult age -
I was into the Protestant Reformers:
posters of Calvin and Zwingli on my wall,
autographed copy of the Papal Bull
(“To Rachel, love Leo X, PS you’re excommunicated”).
My enthusiasm could never be sated:
on the phone to my friend Katie -
“Did you see him yesterday?
You know who - in the churchyard at Wittenberg -
isn’t he dead gorgeous though?”
Oh
Saturday morning, meeting Katie
in the Wimpy or the Golden Egg -
tartan trousers halfway up our legs,
tartan armbands, tartan anklesocks,
tartan scarf saying “I Love John Knox” -
because this week in Jackie they did Presbyterians
(Questionnaire: How Presbyterian Are You?)
and now we’re doing scrapbooks.
I said to Katie “I know who you fancy”
“Who?” she says
“That bloke out of the Lollards” I say
“No I do not, Rachel you old moo -
anyway, I believed in rejecting the doctrine of transubstantiation
before you.”
Oh
Saturday night, youth-club disco,
can of Tizer in my hand growing warm -
boy comes up to me, looks at my t-shirt,
says “Hello, I see you’re into Reform”
“Might be” I say
“Yes, me too - what do you think of the Edict of Worms?”
“It’s all right” I say
“Yes, it’s good, isn’t it? What do you think of the Edict of Nantes?”
So I slapped him round the face -
next he’d be asking me if I wanted to dance.
But he was all right, though - really quite nice -
and he did look a little like Martin Luther -
but don’t they all under the disco lights?