there was an old prophecy found in a bog

the man's not sane torture him over the edge
and take each mad pronouncement as veridical
consider this a tool a working wedge
and call all criticisms merely political

let each declaration made to escape the pain
be acted on as though to prevent harm
do not allow the fact that each tail will strain
credulity beyond its limits cause alarm

the man's a muslim what he has to suffer
is nothing compared to our three thousand dead
a powerful consolation will he offer
to keep us free of overwhelming dread

to act in this way burnishes our fame
as people led by those who have no shame