|Being present there, my impetuous tongue to silence I could not resign|
When an order from God of admission on high Came the way of that reverend divine;
I humbly addressed the Almighty: O Lord, Excuse this presumption of mine,
But he’ll never relish the virgins of heaven, The garden’s green borders, the wine!
For paradise isn’t place for a preacher To meddle and meddle and mangle,
And he, pious man—second nature to him Is the need to dispute and to jangle;
His business has been to set folk by the ears And get nations and sects in a tangle:
Up there in the sky is no Mosque and no Church And no Temple—with whom will he wrangle?