Scurvy-plagued Columbus on phantasmal Glory gazed,
Blown across the briny deeps on waves of guilt and shame,
His righteous staff he plunged into a sand virginal white,
His sword uplifted to blind sky bore witness to God's might;
Nina, Pinta, Saint Marie conveyed his cargo well:
Those Sins we're called to purge from us to keep us out of Hell;
Columbus stowed them all beneath the shadows of the trees,
Scarlet fever, small pox brought the sinners to their knees;
Today I sit the New World's edge; there's him to thank for that;
Five hundred revolutions prove the world no longer flat;
But Paradise before him served to prove Columbus blind;
The hinterland is ravaged now; forever left behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment