Oh my goat

For countless days the priest had preached

against the believers of misbelief,

judging gods, scorning cults

and bringing religions to the dust.

Asking how could they believe

in a god too coward to show itself.

Foolish, blind all others were,

for he preached the true religion.

His god was real, he had seen it,

and only one miracle it could work.

His holy goat could stand on water,

never saved a life, never said a word.

But still the priest claimed holy it was,

and chained the goat was, for everyone to see.

Many men, from many lands converted.

From around the world, from across the sea.

The priest's religion grew perverted

and his holy goat was soon forgotten.

And then one dawn saw the goat dead,

starved to the bone, its meat rotten.

Because all gods need to be fed.