So, it's come to this, Pastor, Terry Jones,
Who wants to go out and burn the Koran,
The words of an unthinking, anti-hero,
Such a blind, pathetic, stupid-old-man.
Oh, yes, the world is well outraged,
At the pain of mindless terrorist acts,
But the burning of books, any books,
Will never ever, change the facts.
Why not try asking, Salman Rushdie,
About Islam burning his Satanic Verses,
Pages of words, wreathed in flames,
Amid fatwa's and medieval curses.
Tell me, what good did they ever do?
Flaming fanatics, fooling with fire,
Demonstrations of impotent stunts,
Lost in the heat of a literary pyre!
Oh, please, shame on you, Pastor Jones,
For fuelling anger and stoking up rage,
Chopping kindling from forgiveness,
While you parade on the centre stage.
You call yourself a man of God: Pah!
You're worse than those you condemn,
Your acts igniting another religious war,
Burning lives of countless, innocent, men.
Faith assaulting faith: why, you should,
Bring back stoning, and forty lashes!
Religious ignorance marches to war,
As peace smoulders in smoke and ashes.
Where would we be, without Pastor Jones,
And other radicals, burning, books, for God?
Perhaps we'd have a world without wars,
Flowing with harmony, and love, how odd!