You’ve heard the tune, since early last June
In the year of our Lord, eight eighty-four.
For t’was in His name that the church played its game
Of hate, malice and greed
To rule, conquer and spread its seed
To the New World.
For conquest sake that cross they did bear.
Below, at its foot, head bent, knelt in prayer
Pious popes, kindly cardinals together did swear
Fealty to their greed.
For the love of Christ Jesus the church has assured us
Is why they tore peoples limbs from limbs.
To save them from Hell, all consuming damnation
The coals were kept hot, the ropes pulled up tight,
The blasphemers died screaming into the night,
In the year of our Lord ten eighty-four.
From father to daughter and mother to son
Europeans were Christianized one by one.
Through clans and through hamlets and through tiny nations
The church foisted fear for 50 generations.
Look back to the year 300 AD.
The end of the Romans is what you will see.
He renamed his empire from Roman to Holy
And to Jesus we must go through him only.
The empire was one man’s, his name Constantine.
His generals turned bishops, his creed Nicean.
His church took the love that came straight from Jesus
And scared us with Hell, and did what it pleases.
The tune plays your heart, the bong shakes your soul.
The tune is so friendly, the bong lays a pall.
Bong, bong, bong, bong.
"Cleverly in four bars / tiny little rhymes chime
Then you fall upon your knees / and pray your soul we do not seize.”
Hourly it rings, constantly it brings
Fear, the soul’s deep dark debt it owes to powers be.
Rigid doctrines must be met or stretch on rack and rope, you see.
"Cleverly in four bars…
At two o’clock in Small Town, Europe,
In the year of our lord fifteen eighty four,
The Bishop’s prison awaits for thee.
"At two o’clock we will purify thee.
At two o’clock, thee abomination will purify by fire
At yon stake with faggots tied about thee.
And thee, left handed devil, will be ashes by three."
"For Calvinist remarks, for separationist thinking
Thee will endure thy last days in the stone pit of the east wing.
The Bishop’s prison awaits for thee
In the year of our Lord, sixteen eighty-four."
From then until lately the church has slowed down,
But its bitter reminders are still to be found.
Religious intolerance, Inquisitions of old
Are today called bigots and others homophobe.
Today we can think, we can say, we can play as we may,
And soon you will see come a day people say
There is much more to life than one life for each,
That God is not Him, out there, for us to fear as they preach,
But God is Us All, from inside, Us together as One.
Find Christ from Within
And my poem, it is done.