Egypt Poem by Jonathan Howard

And Moses came before the god
Of Egypt and his throne,
“Release my men, you petty wren,
Lest I shall twist your bone”.

And though he did not speak like that,
His tone was fi erce and harsh;
For he did scare (with his own glare,)
To make Egypt a marsh.

And Pharaoh with his boasting soul
Rejected Moe’s wise threat;
For a plague which was ague,
Was not in his mind set.

And yet old Moses said to him
Who thought his seat was fi rm,
“Your land of sweet won’t be discreet,
And that I can confi rm.

My people shall be free once more,
Without your ‘dear’ concern;
My men will be once more so free,
And you’ll scald like an urn”.

The blood and frogs and lice were there,
And animals’ attack;
And many more made his heart sore,
He yearned for death by rack.

He set the people free, for once,
And chased them like a hawk;
His death, no less, was a big mess,
For he was a great gawk.

Good Moses and his men were free,
And travelled to their land;
What they knew not, was that they’d got
Some forty years of sand.

(April 2005.)