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Poetry in Motion

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A page from the Times the Devil read, and he said to himself, ahem!

I’m the father of lies I know, he said, but I’m damned if I’ve fathered them,

The leading article that day concerned a simple death,

It was suicide, the scribe averred, he simply ran out of breath,

By refusing food and sustenance so generously given,

By his ever caring guardians in a very humane prison,

Around that time a knock was heard, and a weary voice asked to come in,

The knock was on the Pearly Gates, and the man was gaunt and thin,

St. Peter said, “You have the look of hunger and of thirst,

I’ll have a table set for you, but I want some details first”.

“So sit down at this table and fill in this simple form,

We need some information our duties to perform”,

The man sat at the table and handed the paper back,

But Peter scrutinizing said “some details still we lack”,

The man said “I’ve not named my name, I’ll be judged on what I’ve done,

And as for my religion I fear I may have none,

Some clergy deemed it forfeit for I dared to love and hate,

I’ll stand by those emotions whatever be my fate,

If that’s a sin don’t let me in just bid me fare thee well,

Tear up that application and I’ll go back to hell”.

At that from out of Heaven God’s voice roared, “Let him in,

That man is in the state of grace, His soul is purged of sin,

That man has suffered sorely at the Devil’s daughter’s hands,

Don’t you read the papers Peter, that man is Bobby Sands?

So set that table Peter! He’ll sit at my right hand,

I want first-hand information of what’s happening in Ireland,

I did not make that country so beautiful and fair,

To be ruled by Brits and Quislings, who’ve no right to be there,

And set three more places Peter, there’ll be others following soon,

Brave Hughes, McCreesh, O’Hara face an early tomb,

And other longer queues will form of those who can’t come in,

Inform those tools of Thatcher that oppression is a sin”.

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