If, by my verse I can put forth a call
To doff malaise, off apathetic pall,
And the advance of Stupid God to stall,
Then I’ll have done a part, but not enough.
Already have they started them to stuff
And garnish and from them peace to slough,
As Gorlois did ere e’er was Arthur made
And Igraine had her loving trust betrayed;
They have much stock for fighting well in-laid,
And words alone will not them overthrow,
And that they won’t, the tyrants well do know.
They see themselves in no mere Jericho;
In truth, no god will come to shake the walls
In which the Stupid God has too-full halls.
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