God’s armour methinks
Is old and rusty and full of chinks
Through the chinks sometimes show up his weeping eyes
And you hear him mumbling as he sighs–
Worn out alas is my mace
Or else I’d have wiped out the human race
And made it an extinct species
For spreading lies and fecund thescies
That claim it was I who’d created the universe
When in fact it was exactly the reuniverse.