by Ranjit Bolt
They hate that sort of ballyhoo.
Nor will you see them rush about
Ferreting so-called sinners out
And damning them – they call that proud,
By them, some licence is allowed,
Humanity shines out of them,
There’s only one way they’ll condemn
Such actions as they can’t condone –
That’s by the goodness of their own.
They don’t see evil everywhere,
They’re more disposed to deem it rare.
They’re tolerant of their fellow men,
Nor do they share the zealot’s yen
For intrigue. They have just one aim:
To live good lives. They’re not aflame
With wrath against us sinners. No,
It’s sin they hate. They will not go
Further than Heaven means them to
In Heaven’s defence. Now, in my view,
These are the truly virtuous,
The models for the rest of us.
Is your man like them? I fear not.
I’d lump him with the other lot;
Your feeling for him’s genuine
But you’ve been badly taken in.
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