In Gloucester Cathedral, on Saturday night
I came to your flower show, blown like a kite
And I stood by the tombstones, and gazed at the lights
On the altar
And the horse-faced old ladies and tweedy-toned men
Of county society they came and they went
With pamphlets and leaflets of Christian events
For the fall
But ain't it all just like Jesus
Crying in the rain?
Ain't it all just Gethsemane again?
Oh the half-a-crown programmes on sale at the door
Were clutched in the teeth of the rich and the poor
As they swayed in an undertone conscience-free
Forward together
And the outstretching hands of the swains of the Lord
Sold the communing commuters the word
With LPs of Mary and photos of God
In the hall
But ain't it all just like Jesus
Crying in the rain?
Ain't it all just Gethsemane again?
I came to your flower show, blown like a kite
And I stood by the tombstones, and gazed at the lights
On the altar
And the horse-faced old ladies and tweedy-toned men
Of county society they came and they went
With pamphlets and leaflets of Christian events
For the fall
But ain't it all just like Jesus
Crying in the rain?
Ain't it all just Gethsemane again?
Oh the half-a-crown programmes on sale at the door
Were clutched in the teeth of the rich and the poor
As they swayed in an undertone conscience-free
Forward together
And the outstretching hands of the swains of the Lord
Sold the communing commuters the word
With LPs of Mary and photos of God
In the hall
But ain't it all just like Jesus
Crying in the rain?
Ain't it all just Gethsemane again?
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