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Devious Religious Poetry

  An An anonymous blogger who calls himself or herself  'FreeAtLast' placed this derisive but humerous poem about 'Satan Claus' on the Spectrum magazine blog. Some of the implied criticism is well-earned, but some is not. Since Ellen G. White has been dead since 1915, almost 100 years, I'll take the liberty to answer these implied charges in her behalf -- Dr. Robert F. Holt, MD."l




Page 1


First the Complete Poem, then the Answer

Twas the night before Sunday Law, when all through the sect
Not a creature was stirring among the elect
The tithe envelopes were placed near the chimney with care
Because withholding the tithe, well, no one would dare!

The children were nestled all snug in their beds
While the youthful scourge of self-abuse caved in their heads
And Ma in her reform dress and I in my cap
Had just settled down for our very last nap

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my knees to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutter and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday, like the 4th commandment halo
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a miniature mobile, and the Pope I did fear

With a little old driver, and his Christ on stick
I knew in a moment Sabbathkeepers were up a crick
More rapid than eagles his followers they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

On Serpent!
On Dragon!
On Babylon!
On Mary!

On Beast!
and his Image!
(Could this get any more scary?!)

As gluten and soy make the stomach cramps start
And cause gas in the bowels to erupt a great fart
So up to the housetop the apostates they flew
With a Popemobile full of former Adventists, and Mr. Pope too

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The Pope and the Devil, who appeared in a *poof*
As I drew in my head and was turning around
Down the chimney old Antichrist did bound

He was dressed all in white from his mitred head to his cloven feet
Looking for those who refused to eat meat.
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back
And I knew that his followers soon would attack.

His eyes gleaming evil, on his brow Six-Six-Six
Why this must be the Antichrist, up to his tricks!
With a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head
His Masonic gang signs gave us reason to dread

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
Took the tithe from the envelopes, that non-Adventist jerk!
And laying his finger aside of his nose
He signaled the Masons, probation must close.

He sprang to his Popemobile, to his followers gave a shout
“Kill all of the Adventists, let God sort ‘em out!”
And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
“Merry Christmas to all unless you follow Ellen White!”
h/t Daneen Akers



NEXT: The Night before the Sunday Law.


INDEX: To New Age