To The Goatherds
When asked to choose an Antipope
A goat would normally decline
Because their habits are nocturnal
And their cassocks are divine
They like to rummage tenderly
And browse the vestry, fancy-free
In search of humbugs, bright and blue,
Though they like to butt vicars too
And should they happen on a cabbage head
They'll know the former Antipope is dead.
But goats, when choosing Magistrates,
Just tend to turn the other hoof:
De minimis non curat lex
'The law from trivia stays aloof'
How droll! Your kidding makes me smile
Inducing heartache all the while
In every chamber, every vein
I cannot bear the dreadful pain!
And should I happen on a thistle stalk
I'll pluck it gloomily and walk
And, when the Final Choice is on the cards
A goat's advice is little use
To those that gather turbid shards,
And drown their fears in guava juice
A goat has little sympathy
For those who won't go quietly
But offers every kind of care
For those who seek the Papal chair
And should I happen on a dried-up yam
The Papal travesty will scream "I am, I AM!"
Contributors: | Roland, fester, Apsley, H, E Greejius, TG, Grayman, P, d rippner. |
Poem finished: | 10th April 2000. |