Why did those Feet…?
I’ve often found it fairly odd,
The way the English always had
To borrow someone else’s god,
And rush to join the latest fad –
From Mother Earth to Father Woden,
Merlin and Sir Galahad,
Until at last, through constant goading,
So we fell for Jesus, bad !
But what was the attraction
In a bunch of desert-nomad tales ?
The sarabands that blew their action
Don’t translate to English gales –
I guess we want to get along –
A thousand martyrs can’t be wrong !
When cult’ral cringe is at its height,
The chariots are burning bright !
So Adam loves his country Garden
(Never naked, always blond),
But once he’s out, why would he harden
In a world so green beyond ?
And Noah’s rain is not a threat
To those who never felt a thirst,
And Moses needn’t raise a sweat
When native plagues of gnats are worse !
And Jesus, what about the lad ?
Politely yet at-length ignored,
Where nobody would call him mad,
Yet nobody would call him Lord.
“He’s far too foreign”, they would say,
“And far too showy – not our way.”
Yet somehow (why, though, isn’t clear)
Jerusalem was builded here.