The Spoonbill Generator

To tear the grimy Gospel [Surlaw]

From the clutches of a god [P]

And twist each word of wisdom [Surlaw]

Until it sounds quite odd [P]

To wring the lies from every hymn [Surlaw]

- This must be thought a life of sin. [Shipp]

To sully the communion [Surlaw]

Was not ever my desire, [Apsley]

And yet, in choicest visions [Surlaw]

Of a shining purple spire, [Apsley]

To foul the water in each font [Surlaw]

Became a kind of Hellespont: [Apsley]

To slander every saviour [Surlaw]

Was not my wisest choice - [Apsley]

Yet every desecration showed [Surlaw]

That I had read all Joyce, [Apsley]

Whose virgin birth, by Molly Bloom [Surlaw]

Was not to many folk a boon [Apsley]

To vilify each icon [Surlaw]

In the clutches of a Dane [Apsley]

And court the wrath of angels [Surlaw]

Is surely far from sane [Shipp]

Unless one's existential spite [Surlaw]

Is that of an eternal shite [Apsley]