They say he was a gentleman

And a gentle man

The Queen’s good servant

And a child of the Church

They say he was universal

To those for whom he spoke,

Offering a listening ear

And a chat on the bus

And that he was late, always late

An hour, at least, or more

Spending time in small talk

For it was worth his while

He saw each soul as dignified

In God, from womb to tomb

And met them face to face

And offered outstretched hand

He was a knight, but common born

With Cockney polished down

And he could laugh in costume

At the title he had gained

He wore it lightly, kindly, well

And argued for religion’s worth

In Oxford’s halls, where proud he said

That he would die a Catholic

And so he has, in dignity

And so might Mary’s dowry mourn

For the bleeding of her son

Made vulnerable, within a church

But England’s eyes are upward turned

And in her heart, the rood is raised