The Society & the Witness

by trevor 3 Replies latest watchtower beliefs

  • trevor
    trevor

    The Society and the Witness

    The time has come the Witness said,

    To talk of many things:

    Of time and truth and old truths -

    Of false prophecies and kings -

    And why Armageddons still not here -

    And whether dates have wings.

    The Witness and the Society

    Walked on a mile or so,

    And then rested on a Bible

    Conveniently their own:

    And all the other Witnesses stood

    And waited in a row.

    But four young Brothers hurried up.

    All eager for the treat:

    Their coats were brushed,

    Their shoes were clean and neat

    And this was odd, because, you know,

    It wasnt time to meet.

    But wait a bit, the members cried

    Before we have our chat;

    For some of us are out of breath,

    And not sure we believe all that!

    No choice! The Society said.

    They thanked them very much for that.

    If seven Elders with seven pens,

    Wrote for half a year,

    Do you suppose, the Witness said,

    That we could get it clear?

    I doubt it, the Society said,

    And shed a bitter tear.

    A new date, the Society said,

    Is what we chiefly need:

    Books and magazines besides

    Are very good indeed

    Now if youre ready, Brothers dear,

    We can begin to read.

    It seems a shame, the Witness said,

    To play the members such a trick

    After weve brought them out so far,

    And made them trot so quick!

    The Society said nothing but

    Well use a bigger stick!

    The Society looked at him,

    But never a word they said:

    The Witness wiped his eye,

    And shook his heavy head-

    Meaning to say he did not choose

    To go where they now led.

    I weep for you, the Witness said:

    I deeply sympathise.

    With sobs and tears he sorted out

    Books of the largest size,

    Holding his Watchtower

    Before his streaming eyes.

    O Brothers, the Society said,

    Youve had a pleasant run!

    Shall we be trotting to the Hall again?

    But answers came there none

    And this was scarcely odd, because

    They no longer found it fun.

    Trevor Willis

  • blondie
    blondie

    A wonderful satire of this work, a favorite of mine. Well done!

    The Walrus and The Carpenter

    Lewis Carroll

    (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

    The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
    He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright--
    And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.

    The moon was shining sulkily,
    Because she thought the sun
    Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done--
    "It's very rude of him," she said,
    "To come and spoil the fun!"

    The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
    You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
    No birds were flying overhead--
    There were no birds to fly.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
    They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
    "If this were only cleared away,"
    They said, "it would be grand!"

    "If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year.
    Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
    "That they could get it clear?"
    "I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

    "O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
    The Walrus did beseech.
    "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
    We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each."

    The eldest Oyster looked at him,
    But never a word he said:
    The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head--
    Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

    But four young Oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
    Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat--
    And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn't any feet.

    Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
    And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more--
    All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
    And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
    And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

    "The time has come," the Walrus said,
    "To talk of many things:
    Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
    Of cabbages--and kings--
    And why the sea is boiling hot--
    And whether pigs have wings."

    "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
    "Before we have our chat;
    For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!"
    "No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

    "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
    "Is what we chiefly need:
    Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed--
    Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed."

    "But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
    "After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!"
    "The night is fine," the Walrus said.
    "Do you admire the view?

    "It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!"
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    "Cut us another slice:
    I wish you were not quite so deaf--
    I've had to ask you twice!"

    "It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
    "To play them such a trick,
    After we've brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!"
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    "The butter's spread too thick!"

    "I weep for you," the Walrus said:
    "I deeply sympathize."
    With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size,
    Holding his pocket-handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.

    "O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
    "You've had a pleasant run!
    Shall we be trotting home again?'
    But answer came there none--
    And this was scarcely odd, because
    They'd eaten every one.

  • trevor
    trevor

    Well spotted Blondie,

    Thanks for reminding me where my insanity came from! Was Lewis Carroll clever or mad? Is there a difference? Must be off, I've got some 'brilling' to do.

  • blondie
    blondie

    Well, Lewis Carroll had a sad, personal life in spite of his contributions to English literature.

    Better to be yourself, Trevor.

    Actually, being in the WTS is like being in Wonderland. Falling down deep dark hole is the way it starts.

    Blondie

Share this

Google+
Pinterest
Reddit