Missionaries and Cannibals
Within my soul desire burns
to know the world in certain terms.
I aimed to learn the scholar's way,
but failing logic, took up faith.
So I've convened this pious troop,
oh Godless men, we preach to you.
Our tribe is hard and wanton,
by God we are forgotten.
The only joy we've known
is tearing flesh from bone.
We've heard you preach the gospels
to reform us sinful cannibals,
but if there're more of us than you,
we'll have missionary stew.
Three missionaries, three cannibals,
three to save three Godless souls.
Across the river stands a church,
within its walls, they will convert.
This boat is built for only two,
but I've a plan to see us through,
I'll bring them over one by one,
and calm them with the word of God.
Your plan has a fatal flaw,
so think it over hard and long
our warning, best you heed,
lest on your flesh we'll feast.
So the missionary and the cannibal
across the river began to row.
The water flowed soft and smooth;
they spoke of God, they spoke of truth.
The missionary came back alone,
and the second cannibal joined him in the boat.
The water shimmered with a brilliant glaze;
they spoke of love, they spoke of faith.
When they reached the water's edge,
they snapped his neck, they ate his flesh,
just like they said, they ate him dead.
Copyright 2009 by Dan Bach.