Subject: poem
From: Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Date: Tue Apr 18 2000 - 03:14:37 EDT
The Cardinal sat in his darkened room,
Robed in his dreadful red,
Combing his beard in the sanctified gloom,
Nodding his awesome head.
How shall we gather these children all in?
Lead them to love & to light?
Shriven of sarcasm, sneering & sin
Each countenance glowing & bright.
A touch of the Spaniards, his deacon replied
The fire & the rack & the knout.
Torquemad's med'cine & scourges of hide
Will cleanse all unkindly thoughts out.
A bucket of syrup, his Em'nence announced
An ordeal more fearful by far.
To the threshold of heav'n our flock t'will have bounced
Much quicker than burning tar.
Scottie B.
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