The hold that Stupid God has tight on me
Does also mandate that I ever be
At work to earn what should be given, free,
And not demanded as ongoing fee.
If life I have who did not for life ask,
Then keeping life should not oblige a task
Be done, yet some will call it glory, bask
In needing work, and fill Stupid God’s cask.
Too many deeply drink the offered draught
And in the drinking render themselves daft,
Begin the antics at which some have laughed
And some have wept, who suffer them abaft.
Against those who such spirits will imbibe
No effect comes from a mere diatribe.
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