|Humor Poetry posted February 28, 2011|
A poem on some problems with creation
The Engineer's Tale
Dear Pilgrims, listen to my verse.
I wish to clarify
Some facts about the universe,
Of mountains, moons and sky.
Before the hills in order stood
God told His engineer,
"Let this be clearly understood,
I want small mountains here."
"So, nothing big or fancy, like
You did on Mars last night,
'Cos interest rates just took a hike
And credit's pretty tight."
"Righto, Boss," said his building team,
"It shall be as you say.
We have in mind the perfect scheme
We're sure you'll find OK."
Then, since it was the Seventh Day,
God took off to unwind,
Quite sure things would be done His way,
Exactly as defined.
But, engineers have great ideas
And building's in their genes.
The costs lie in accountants' spheres.
It's they who count the beans.
The Rockies were the first in line.
(But bigger than they'd planned)
The Andes, they were superfine,
The Alps were more than grand.
And, then the Big One they attacked,
Mount Everest the Great
And there it stood, their finest act,
The World's top real estate.
The Boss, of course, was still away,
Enjoying well earned leave,
But, He returned to work next day,
To check what they'd achieved.
Regrettably, Accounts phoned first,
With smug delight, to tell
The very thing He feared the worst,
"The budget's shot to Hell."
So, as He sought his engineers,
His mood was far from calm.
The steam from out His Heavenly ears
Was hotter than napalm.
He found them celebrating,
Rather pleased with all they'd done,
And quite certain that their rating
Would still be Number One.
Just one look at His visage
And their mood changed pretty fast.
They'd not seen Him in such a rage,
Since Satan was downcast.
But, 'ere He made them all convert
To ashes where they stood,
He looked upon this wondrous Earth
And what He saw was good.
And, there and then, God made a vow
That, till the end of time,
All engineers he would endow
With brains and looks sublime.
This story should be ended, but
Accounts were still irate,
Demanding programmes must be cut
To put the budget straight.
Ergo, to let them have their way,
God found some things to prune.
That's why the stars don't shine by day
And Earth has just one moon.
So folks, as you encounter
All these starless, moonless days
Just blame that damned bean counter
And his penny pinching ways.
Believe me when I say to you,
No matter what you hear,
I certify this tale is true.
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I am sure this tale would have been told then.
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