Anyone for Polo
That much downtrodden sweet
Abandoned in a Sunday suit
Alone throughout the week
Not shown to guests at dinner
Nor offered after eight
Forgotten , isolated
A lower class of taste
But come the Sabbath morning
It soon takes centre stage
To stop a child in full flight
And cool a reddening face
Enough in every packet
To pass along the pew
No sticky papers to unwrap
No centres to chew through
Inserted just in time to catch
The sermon's opening phrase
Discretely introduced in prayer
When all eyes should be closed
Sometimes it lasts the whole way through
Sometimes you reach the hole
And then the preacher might announce
"Just two more points to go"
So special yet so simple
Not just a Sunday treat
There's a message in there somewhere
From the saviour of all sweets
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