A Queima do Judas
Every year in my village in Oliveira do Hospital,
The traitor, Judas, must pay for his kiss.
He and his wife hang from the chapel belfry,
Swinging effigies awaiting punishment.
The bells toll at midnight before Easter
And keep ringing as the rope is singed
And the couple falls to the ground.
Torched, the two are dragged round the church
Until they are ash.
The hundred spectators joke and jostle.
They cajole a boy to whack a smoking Judas.
Thus, the 13th is spared suicide
And justice is done.
Without collecting evidence.
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