No one likes punishment duty, it’s a horrible thankless task,
The only way of coping is with warped humour as a mask.
So when we got this Jesus, a “Messiah”, “Saviour” and “King”,
He was just one more criminal, to be crucified this spring.
We arranged a special coronation, complete with thorny crown,
We even found some purple cloth, to make a royal gown.
We knelt in false obedience, we beat Him where He sat,
And instead of anointing oil, we all of us just spat.
But strangely this quiet miscreant, didn’t fight or shout or curse,
He didn’t call down destruction, but waited while we did our worse.
Despite His body’s bruises, when we lifted Him up high,
He shone a kind of radiance, against the darkening sky.
His words were full of anguish, for Himself and those around,
It seemed creation responded, with a rumbling, thundery sound.
The world changed in a moment, and although you will think me odd,
I now believe that this Jesus, was truly The Son of God.
