I don’t think you need me to tell you this is AI…
Bats in the Belfry
The bats take refuge in the church,
Between the hammerbeams –
They fly-in through a gargoyle’s open maw,
Or so it seems.
And congregants have learned which pews
They oughtn’t occupy,
As droppings live upto their name,
Like manna from on high.
The organ doesn’t bother them,
They sleep right through the hymns,
And no reading out of Revelations
Makes them stretch their limbs,
Though we sometimes hear them squeaking
As we finish evensong –
Leviticus may curse them,
But they feel like they belong.
