Thank You Catherine for this Poem - George

THERE IS A GOD OF WHOM MY PRAYERS,
POOR AS I AM, NO BOON REQUEST;
I WATCH THE WORLD AND ITS AFFAIRS,
CHERISH THE GOOD, FORGET THE REST;
AND PLEASURE, HOW E'ER PRIESTS MAY PRATE,
MY MODEST CREED DOES NOT OFFEND.
GAILY I DRINK, AND LEAVE MY FATE
TO GOD, THE GOOD FOLK'S FRIEND!

BESIDE MY PILLOW POVERTY
SITS BROODING, BUT I HEED HER NOT.
FOR THANKS TO LOVE AND HOPE, YOU SEE,
I DREAM A BED OF DOWN MY LOT
MINE THAT NO STERN PRIEST'S CREATE
GENTLE IS HE TO WHOM I BEND;
GAILY I DRINK, AND LEAVE MY FATE
TO GOD, THE GOOD FOLK'S FRIEND!

A CONQUERING DESPOT DRUNK WITH POWER,
NATIONS AND DYNASTIES DOWN FLINGS,
THE DUST HIS PROUD HOOF'S SHOWER
BEGRIMES THE SACRED BROW OF KINGS.
CRAWL ON, CRAWL ON, YE FALLEN GREAT.
WHAT RECK I HOW YOUR GLORIES END?
GAILY I DRINK, AND LEAVE MY FATE
TO GOD, THE GOOD FOLK'S FRIEND

OH, OUR FOREBODING FRIEND THE PRIEST,
WITH ALL HIS PROPHECIES OF GLOOM!
ON HELL-FIRE HE LOVES TO FEAST,
THE END OF TIME, THE CRACK OF DOOM!
COME, CERIDWEN,YOUR CHEEKS INFLATE,
IN FLAME AND THUNDER -CLOUD DESCEND!
GAILY I DRINK ,AND LEAVE MY FATE
TO GOD, THE GOOD FOLK'S FRIEND.

George Lockett <george.lockett@...> wrote: