The Government Prays the People to Do Its Will

A poem for The Pandemic 2.0

Genteel Stasi, meek and mild,
Look upon this little child.
Tell us if he went to play,
Or if his cousins came to stay.

Fain would we to him be brought,
Although his mother be distraught.
In the kingdom of our grace,
She must fear your friendly face.

Gentle Cummings, kindly Gove,
Have shown you how to show your love.
Report! Report her! Thou shalt find
Righteousness in bitter mind.

The lonely man, the single mum,
The volunteer: they go and come.
Make them genteel as thou art,
Though their loved ones are miles apart.

Though they live in tiny flat:
Ne’er stop to think, whose fault is that;
just shop them in! You really must,
For they are wrong, and you are just.

And we shall then show forth our praise,
And you will find, you fill your days;
And then the world shall always see
The pow’r of your simplicity.

Apologies to Charles Wesley