two men sat fishing
by a village stream
one short
one tall...

Short Man:
I think he's wrong
to chat to kids
leave them alone
there is no need

Tall Man:
What have you there
your venal mind
has lost the plot
there is no deed

Short Man:
No man has kids
who like him so
it must be bad
let's cast our vote

Tall Man:
No issue here
we're always there
he's not alone
I'll have you note

Short Man:
They tell him stuff
we never hear
why don't they talk
to us instead

Tall Man:
You're busy mate
you shut them up
and all you do
is keep them fed

Short Man:
It's just not done
the kids all flock
they see a saint
could be a threat

Tall Man:
The Lord himself
had kids mill 'round
for he was good
no need to fret

Short Man:
It's true I s'pose
that's different though
a Son of God
can do it right

Tall Man:
So all of us
imperfect souls
can only lose
the moral fight?

Short Man:
Of course it's not
as clear as that
just can't abide
if kids get hurt

Tall Man:
Well that's okay
but blacken not
a decent man
by throwing dirt

Short Man:
I'll flog him to
an inch of life
if we would hear
he's crossed the line

Tall Man:
You know I loathe
all deviant ways
be careful though
for he's benign

Short Man:
I hear you man
my thoughts run wild
we mustn't see
it black and white

Tall Man:
Imagine if
he's told this sh-t
to slander hear
how would that bite

Short Man:
You have a point
not all are bad
some have more time
than most townsfolk

Tall Man:
I've heard he steers
them to the good
he's simply not
a usual bloke

Short Man:
You're right my friend
you've pulled me up
an honest man
we should defend

Battered whispers of fake truths
Snarl through innocent ears
And bend unwilling hearts.
It's a song as sweet as poison
And bitter as glass eyes.

The postman boy
Has gotten weary of the stories told
Wrongly by dear Oblivia on the yards
Every morning.
The postman boy comes for
The warm-hearted letters of distance sons
But on his hands are letters of slander and
coalition he did not fathom.