O tempora, o mores!

O TEMPORA, O MORES

To flabby poets dogma’s are absurd
and to superior women is the faith a burden,
who’re fond of something singular and bold,
instead of doing what our God had told.

It won’t be long before our brother animal
will teach us to be kind and innocent.
We’re tainted by what isn’t really done.
Grass-eating is so healthy and gives fun.

They’re chattering about ‘unknown possibilities’,
the mysticism of planes and other novelties,
about the latest snapshot of their empty minds,
just when a noble spirit passes by.

With wood from everywhere their bonfire’s flaring,
a symbol of the worldly spirit, loose and overdaring.
More than the faithful they vare zealous and religious;
their piety is hard and more vexatious.

They choose themselves a similarly zealous saviour,
young and confused, in English swear-words clever.
God valued them: of little use to Him…
But He Himself comes to the souls who seek Him.