Woe unto thee hypocrite
Thy voice an empty sound
To iniquity commit
Yet not to thy word bound
Thy transgressions infinite
Such perfidies confound
Especially when largely writ
As plaudits to renowned
Woe unto thee capitalist
Thy voice a nagging noise
Yo sing of being fortune kissed
With frequency that cloys
Aggrandizing egotist
Thy avarice destroys
As extinction catalyst
Ill repute none enjoys
Bodies stacked as cord wood
Oh, the fires we shall kindle
For those who can’t accord good
Rotate on Perdition’s Spindle
Mendacities hail from the pulpit
A loving God’s eternal ire
Mankind roasting slow on a full spit
Subject to perpetual fire
Although they can tell they can’t show it
Backed up by unheavenly choir
They know that they know they can’t know it
In this lie all our leaders conspire
Who knows what the Lord would
In such claims lies the swindle
Their afterlife reward should
Turn them on Perdition’s Spindle
Woe unto thee commander
Thy voice the voice of hate
Our humanity you slander
Enmity thou generate
To industrialists you pander
Lo the pacifists berate
With each new ambition grander
Bloodlust you can never sate
Woe unto thee apathetic
Silently who watch it burn
Contentment in anesthetic
Into fantasy adjourn
Enamored of the aesthetic
The underlying no concern
Combustion unsympathetic
On Perdition’s Spindle turn
At last no one implored good
Thus humans’ prospects dwindle
For all who have deplored would
End upon Perdition’s Spindle
Bodies stacked as cord wood
Oh, the fires we shall kindle
For all who have ignored good
Roast upon Perdition’s Spindle
Nice rhyme, good preaching!