Robin Amy Bass
MALCOLM’S LAMENT
(or Running the Ridge or Playing the Edge)
I woke up this morning feeling tired and cold
For most of my life I’ve been happy and bold
I’ve never been hurting; well not really much
a touch of lumbago – no need for a crutch
at the ripe age of 80 – ok! Seventy nine
some say its senility – some say it’s the wine
I looked in the mirror and stared at my face
and said – what the hell, I had best, just in case,
pick a religion and get me a god
in case, there’s a heaven; I’m not much for sod.
The devil won’t want me; “I found that old woman
She does too much good, it is driving me crazy!”
The Jews have been chosen, so I won’t choose them
Beside when they’re talking, they use to much phlegm
I need a religion that forgives indiscretion
though I confess I’m not much on confession
I doubted poor Thomas; had lust in my mind
I need a religion that says, “That is fine.
As long as you’re sorry you will pass inspection.
Beside that Theresa lass is a wonderful connection
No pagans for you… we will give you protection
Besides – here’s the biggie, we got resurrection!”
So when I am ready to make my transition
I think it’d be wise to change my position.
I know there are a Father, a Son, and a Ghost
Transubstantiate This – lift the cup – make a toast
Author’s Note: Malcom refers to Malcolm Muggeridge