Arabella fortunella an artiste of some renown
having played the finest theatres,
(usually without her gown)
The years had not been kind to her,
her body shape was gone,
she lost a lot of real good parts;
even though we know it's wrong.

One day while travelling to her latest gig
she espied a young boy crying over a twig
How come; she asked; are you not at school?
The boy just laughed; 'you some kind of fool?'
Every body knows today is the last one we got,
Cause the Lord; he is tired; us humans lost the plot,
Gave us twenty eight days, no more; no less!
Arabella went home to put on her dress.

Standing on stage in her nightly attire
gazing up to heaven; her voice rises higher!
These words she did say, (more like shout at gods face),
Who do you think you are? Blaming the human race.

We who were put here without reservation,
to strive and to suffer for you're delectation;
With just the faintest of promise of a new kingdom/nation,
(as yet unfulfilled for most).
Expected to bow and to sing and to cower,
most days of the week some day’s every hour;
To a rabble of angels who can't even shower;
(father son and holy ghost!)

Take of your world and burn it in hell,
if you build of another be sure that you tell,
the resident incumbents their rights; as you please;
To force at any time their race to their knees.
Oh while we're about it,
The matinees due;
I'm off to entertain,
Don’t know about you.

With that god took his leave decided; desist;
if this is the strength of their feeling, resist.
Allow another chance, see what criteria they meet!
In the meantime; some popcorn and take of a seat.

Arabella fortunella had no time for gods
she was too busy working to even the odds.