Look, I’m not sure we ought to be here now
She’s just given birth, for pity’s sake, man!
Don’t look at me that way, with furrowed brow
Instead, turn your eyes upward: heaven scan
That’s how you led us on this mad campaign
Insisting that celestial bodies
Foretold the devil’s loss and our good gain;
Old Balthazar there sang sweet melodies
Assuring me of a journey heroic
But I have saddle sores and malaria
Does that bawling wretch sound messianic?!?
I think we’d better clear the area
Gold, frankincense, myrrh, a pounding headache;
Was this whole expedition a mistake?
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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