| In Praise of Slugs,
or a Gardener’s Prayer
Now Adam tilled God’s Garden in perfect harmony
With birds and beasts and insects, mosquito, fly and flea,
’Til the serpent gave the woman, an apple from that tree,
And the slugs came marching in.
In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me.
Now the snails have killed the lilies, and my back is killing me,
And the slugs keep marching on.
Ten thousand times ten thousand, thy saints are praising thee,
But the slugs arrive in millions, for their breakfast, lunch and tea,
You must love them, Lord, you made them, but my garden’s made for me
Not a slug’s re-fect-or-y!
O teach us Lord to love them, to see their true beauty,
After all they’re your creation, like the mountain and the sea,
But so were my Petunias, reminding us of thee,
’Til those slugs came marching in.
O the world is topsy-turvy, climate change and slavery,
For the slugs have eat the apples off Evie’s apple tree,
Now they know of good and evil, and through all eternity
They will keep marching on.
Glory, Glory Hallelujah,
Forgive me Lord, I pray,
I am off to buy a tin of Sluggit.
RIR
(A Hymn for the CTiB Lent Group, 2008)
 
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