A Monthly Publication

By Edward Wheatley

When I'm feeding the ducks on the chilly church green,

Does God peep out from behind the rood screen

And say to himself …. “Oh deary, oh dear.

I've made a bit of a cock-up, I fear.

So many mouths to feed. So little food.

And I'm supposed to be the God who is good.”

“I hope people don't think that they have been had

And are mistakenly praising a God who is bad.

Though humans can't blame me for the wrong that they do

As they have free will. It's got to be true

That the rest of the creatures though of course sentient

Because they've no reason, must be deemed innocent.”

“So why do I starve them ? Make them scared all their

lives ?

Why do the fiercest and cruellest survive ?

While the nicest and kindest and generally good

End up as the nastiests' tastiest food ?

Same with the humans - it's the worst who do best

Whilst the nicest and kindest benefit least.”

“I hope believers don't think that my cruellest deceit

Was to promise them heaven and the hope that they'd

meet

Their old friends and loved ones and all they want most

Surrounded by clouds and the heavenly host.

By the time that they've realised that they're out of luck

They'll have come back to earth as a poor mallard duck.”

Too late to renounce God, or even complain,

They'll be waiting for bread on a chilly church green.