An Ode to David,
our blogging Minstrel.
Oh gentle and sweet-tongued troubadour
who like a gentle and soothing breeze
from western shores of distant seas
tides brings,
it is of time rather than of distance cruel
that thy well fitting and eclectic words
here and now memories bring
like ghosts of ages past-gone.
I welcome you therefore to these parched shores
that dreaded Global Warming shall make even more so,
that monster which, evolution that never resting stays
shall bend to ever more increase the layers of cottonwool
that the Good Lord above decreed by
undeserved kindness moved, to give
for the protection of the halas already tiny brains
of us poor dwellers on these god-forsaken shores.
Thy gentle voice that like the harp
of that ancestor of yours,
whom ancient myths from Greece tell us arose,
whose songs lions and beasts tamed untold,
shall likewise my pain and anguish soothe,
that cottonwooled, poor, tiny, unreasoning brains
to rage and anger move untold,
and Ferrerix Australix, who
"the gentle-hearted" is called,
make a gentle, barbuto-Templar
again become.
"Non nobis, non nobis,
sed ad Nomini Tui,
das Gloriam, Domine."
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