This is a fat lot of good, Lord! I’m no use to you down here! Why didn’t you let them do the job properly? They couldn’t bear to listen to me But you never let me shut up So when they couldn’t stand it any longer They took drastic action to be rid of me And here I am! Typical! Not even enough water to drown me! And they can’t even face up to their own incompetence! They should be dragging me off somewhere else To finish me off properly But they’ve just left me here: A job half-finished! --- A job half-started That’s all I ever did for you! They listened alright; they just didn’t want to hear! The more I said, The more it was as though I’d never even opened my mouth, But you wouldn’t let me shut it! If you hadn’t sent me, They might have noticed for themselves how things were going, But your warnings made them shut their eyes tight, So that they wouldn’t even see what they could have seen for themselves. Ah, well. It’s not my problem any more! Mud! Darkness! Mud up to the armpits. I’m shivering. Bits of broken pot and other rubbish in the mud. I can’t sit. I can’t really stand. It must get more solid as it goes down. I’ve got some sort of foothold. I can’t trust it. Some parts are sloppier than others. Who did you expect to listen, anyway? The ordinary people? They have no choice in their lives. It doesn’t matter what they listen to, life’s a daily struggle, and they’ve masters to please. The king? The king! Frightened of everyone! Frightened of the courtiers, frightened of powerful foreigners, frightened of his own hungry people, very frightened of you! He’d have liked to believe you. His own common sense was telling him the same message, but he hadn’t the confidence to do anything about it: Didn’t believe that if he faced up to things and gave a few orders, he could save the situation, and get the sort of compromise that would keep his people alive and free. So it’s just you and me now! In the dark, Half stuck in the mud; Little slurps and scuttlings that I’m trying not to notice. Just you and me. You knew it would be like that! Why did you try? You knew no-one would listen, Except me. I suppose it’s worse for you than it is for me. They’re your people. You want the best for them. I didn’t know most of them. I knew my family and friends, But I can’t say that I care personally For each one of thousands of people. I never thought of this before. I’m a bit speechless. You care for each one of those thousands of people! It must be awful for you now! You got me to do my best And it hasn’t worked, And they’re going to be overwhelmed and carried off and all those other things; And all you’ve got out of it is this half-dead prophet stuck in a well! You know, darkness isn’t so bad, with you here. So real, I can almost feel you, Filling this well, Filling this dark building. Oh, dear God of the darkness, how wonderful to find you here! As my feet shift in the mud And I brace my arms against the sides of the well, You’re here! I did my best and I was an utter failure but you’re here and I love you. What’s that noise? Lights? Voices? Ropes coming down? Oh, Shucks, They’re coming to get me out!

PAINTERS

We have no squabble, we who paint the light,
Though one choose red, one blue, one favours green;
And while we labour, patient with our paint,
Our little truth to wrap, from all we've seen;

The light, our master, can't be painted true;
The light, our teacher, can't be caged in jar;
That blazing white, too brilliant to view;
Energy, peaceful, from our nearest star.

Not many painters stand full face to sun,
Yet by its light we see each object lit.
What ever scene we paint, shades choose or shun,
We owe the sun the scene each one shall fit.