The Puritan

There's a tiny man inside my brain

A pompous little swine

And he only makes his presence felt

When I've stepped out of line

I've never actually seen him

Cause he's fairly nanoscopic

But he's priggish, narrow minded

And a little bit psychotic

And I'd guess he wears a cockel hat

With starchy cuffs and collar

Woolen jacket, tweedy kecks

And you'd bet your bottom dollar

That he sports a quite distinctive goatee beard

And a pair of calf-high breeches

Such as Cromwell pioneered

I try to steer a steady ship

Through life's tempestuous seas

But every time I stray off course

This little man appears

And berates me in his middle-english drawl

Says “Thee 'ad better pull thee socks up

Or thee's 'edding for a fall”

Now I like a little sinfulness

To mitigate life's pressure

But like marrying in haste, he says

I will repent at leisure

If I give in to temptation all the time

(He's a barrel-full of laughs

This pal of mine)

Now I do occasionally wonder

Why an atheist like myself

Should be constantly tormented

By a Puritanic elf

I fear I have been brainwashed by the kirk

Another troubled victim

Of it's missionary work