inspired by our study of monasticism in the The Middle Ages.
Lincoln J. Gaskins
The top monk is called the Abbot, and even the Abbot wears a habit.
At the strike of noon the monks gathered in the scriptorium
Where they were not allowed to hum,
And they’d light their little candles,
And carry their inkpots by their handles,
And copy the Bible for hours and hours,
And line, and draw, and paint towers.
Monks would save people with St. Bernards,
And people would write their thank-you cards, and they’d take some beer
And spit on wool, and Satan would leer, and make them cool
But it was rare
That that would get by
The Almighty Lord
Who is also a spy!
What can I say? When inspiration strikes, all I can do is get out of his way!