Hooky in South Boston

What a sky there is today
That fluxes blue and white and gray
And merges colors as clouds play
Across the fields of heaven.

So now YOU bow down and pray
When winds of Spring sweep ME away
And lead my sinful thoughts astray
From dreams of perfect heaven.

Though clergymen always inveigh
that all boys must always obey
And study Holy Books all day
Lest they offend in heaven.

I maintain that God would say
In light of such a splendid May
That all should frolic in they hay—
To hell with thoughts of heaven.