Born for torture
A pastoral penetration
Torn from the arms
The charms of a mother poor
Raised to bless the arms
In sanctified savagery
In magnified banditry
King of kings
Lord of lords
Holy reminder
Divine pathfinder
Leading the blind
That they too may find
In true conversion
Daily reversion
To the jealousy and greed
That underlie the prelates’ creed
A cross that pilgrims
Bought by tons
Divided for each end every one
At their hearts aimed
In their souls maimed
With joy they pray
With joy they pay
For the sword from heaven
Their fears might slay
And this began
On Christmas Day.
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