An Archbishop of Canterbury Tale (Rowan Williams lampooned in Chaucerian verse. )

"With apologies to Geoffrey Chaucer"

Heere Bigynneth the Tale of the Asse-Hatte.

1 Whan in Februar, withe hise global warmynge

2 Midst unseasonabyl rain and stormynge

3 Gaia in hyr heat encourages

4 Englande folke to goon pilgrimages.

5 Frome everiches farme and shire

6 Frome London Towne and Lancanshire

7 The pilgryms toward Canterbury wended

8 Wyth fyve weke holiday leave extended

9 In hybryd Prius and Subaru

10 Off the Boughton Bypasse, east on M2.

11 Fouer and Twyntie theye came to seke

12 The Arche-Bishop, wyse and meke

13 Labouryte and hippye, Gaye and Greene

14 Anti-warre and libertyne

15 All sondry folke urbayne and progressyve

16 Vexed by Musselmans aggressyve.

17 Hie and thither to the Arche-Bishop's manse

18 The pilgryms ryde and fynde perchance

19 The hooly Bishop takynge tea

20 Whilste watching himselfe on BBC.

21 Heere was a hooly manne of peace

22 Withe bearyd of snow and wyld brows of fleece

23 Whilhom stoode athwart the Bush crusades

24 Withe peace march papier-mache paraydes.

25 Sayeth the pilgryms to Bishop Rowan,

26 "Father, we do not like howe thynges are goin'.

27 You know we are as Lefte as thee,

28 But of layte have beyn chaunced to see

29 From Edinburgh to London-towne

30 The Musslemans in burnoose gowne

31 Who beat theyr ownselfs with theyr knyves

32 Than goon home and beat theyr wyves

33 And slaye theyr daughtyrs in honour killlynge

34 Howe do we stoppe the bloode fromme spillynge?"

35 The Bishop sipped upon hys tea

36 And sayed, "an open mind must we

37 Keep, for know thee well the Mussel-man

38 Has hys own laws for hys own clan

39 So question not hys Muslim reason

40 And presaerve ye well social cohesion."

41 Sayth the libertine, "'tis well and goode

42 But sharia goes now where nae it should;

43 I liketh bigge buttes and I cannot lye,

44 You othere faelows can't denye,

45 But the council closed my wenching pub,

46 To please the Imams, aye thaere's the rub."

47 Sayeth the Bishop, strokynge his chin,

48 "To the Mosque-man, sexe is sinne

49 So as to staye in his goode-graces

50 Cover well thy wenches' faces

51 And abstain ye Chavs from ribaldry

52 Welcome him to our communitie."

53 "But Father Williams," sayed the Gaye-manne

54 "Though I am but a layman

55 The Mussleman youthes hath smyte me so

56 Whan on streets I saunter wyth my beau."

57 Sayed the Bishop in a curt replye

58 "I am as toolrant as anye oothere guy,

59 But if Mussleman law sayes no packynge fudge,

60 Really nowe, who are we to judge?"

61 Then bespake the Po-Mo artist,

62 "My last skulptyure was hailed as smartest

63 Bye sondry criticks at the Tate

64 Whom called it genius, brillyant, greate

65 A Jesus skulpted out of dunge

66 Earned four starres in the Guardian;

67 But now the same schtick withe Mo-ha-med

68 Has earned a bountye on my hed."

69 Sayed the Bishop, "that's quyte impressyve

70 To crafte a Jesus so transgressyve

71 But to do so with the Muslim Prophet

72 Doomed thy neck to lose whats off it.

73 Thou should have showen mor chivalrie

74 In committynge such a blasphemie."

75 And so it went, the pilgryms all

76 Complaynynge of the Muslim thrall;

77 To eaches same the Bishop lectured

78 About the cultur fabrick textured

79 With rainbow threyds from everie nation

80 With rainbow laws for all situations.

81 "But Father Rowan, we bathyr nae one

82 We onlye want to hav our funne!"

83 "But the Musselman is sure to see

84 Thy funne as Western hegemony.

85 'Tis not Cristian for Cristians to cause

86 The Moor to live by Cristendom's laws

87 Whan he has hise sovereyn culture

88 Crist bade us put ours in sepulture.

89 To be divyne we must first be diverse

90 So cheer thee well, thynges could be wors

91 Sharia is Englishe as tea and scones,

92 So everybody muste get stoned."

93 The pilgryms shuffled for the door

94 To face the rule of the Moor;

95 Poets, Professors, Starbucks workers

96 Donning turbans, veils and burqqas.

97 As they face theyr fynal curtan

98 Of Englande folk, one thynge is certan:

99 Dying by theyr own thousande cuts,

100 The Englande folk are folking nuts.

101 BURMA SHAVE