Hilary The Child


A child brought up by nuns!

God help her!


My catholic school was brilliant

All lay teachers there

A warm and happy place

I lived without a care


But I know what she is getting at

When celibacy runs cold

And black-robed priests and nuns

Like making sure you’re told


Those first years of school

Until eleven years old

Are foundations stones of life

A story always told


For Hilary a nightmare

A misery to recall

No wonder Catholics get short shrift

Mother Malachy – your call!


Her memories of catholic school

And then clerical child abuse

Enough to settle Hilary’s mind

RCs are no use


Life is always personal

Life is what we see

What you do to the least of these

That you do to me


Brian Fahy

24 September 2022

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