Treasure Island

Frank E Gibbard

(1947 / LONDON)

A Christening


Like any child conceived
Thought the best ever got
It's easy to imagine
What was said as like as not
And to envisage his kindred
Staged round his cot
Engaged at coo-cooing
The innocent tot
A man yet to be his country's undoing
And as it turned best never begot
Kinder his mother and father's land
Had fared better without
This was a rite
We know of as Christening
Who can but doubt
That any God could be listening
Else while kin folk chukked Adolf's drooling chin
How would He have let the horror begin?

Submitted: Saturday, September 24, 2005

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