The Pope and His Deadly Boomerang

Why should we fear the Holy

Father, father? What wonder

Can high use on the lowly?

Lightning blasts? Roaring thunder?

No, O my son, no sky-bolts

Will call for such gentle dolts.

We don't understand. How odd.

You tell us that he is strong

In your world. But he is far

From our little billabong.

Can he reach to where we are?

Yes, son, to all lands and places

His power comes and retraces.

We don't see him on our sod.

His grace is good, his wrath great,

He sends out the papal bull.

All this you say, and yet, mate,

Nothing's unescapable.

No, my son, you can't outrun

The word of the Holy One.

We can outrace your slow plod.

It seems we can't readily

Understand the doom that hangs

Above our heads so deadly.

Is it like a boomerang?

...That's the power of the pope.

(Lord, I feel like such a dope.)

Now we understand your God.

A/N: This deserves some explanation. "The Pope and his Deadly Boomerang" is a title my family came up with during a game of telephone pictionary. I feel as though there is a great story behind this title, but I haven't yet discovered how to write it. This is my most recent attempt. I don't consider it definitive, and if I ever come up with a better version I'll have to remove this one.