a poem by ROY Douglas KNEALE, UK

What charge be laid upon this man
By ye O Priests so pious?
Why stands this wretch before me?
Why not Annas or Caiaphas?
As Procurator oft I’ve smelled
The sweat of guilt-laid fear
But surely yonder stands
The meekest lamb in Caesarea!

You say he is seditious
But I think ye lie forsooth!
‘tis plain to me he only seeks
To wear a crown of truth
Is verity a wicked crime?
Or pureness such an infamy?
Thy priesthood ought be judge methinks
If such good deeds be blasphemy!

Take ye this man away henceforth
He makes no claim upon Rome’s lands
I find in him no fault at all
As sign of which I wash my hands.
[That this story of gross inhumanity can be so piously ‘celebrated’ annually, whilst intermingled with the commercialization of such as chocolate eggs etc., is, to THIS old mind, reason to ponder upon human nature. R.D.K.Cat.No.R152Q.]

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