With underlying arms well akimbo
Seductively they glance at each other
Smiles seasonally defined
Amidst celebration in the bed of rose
Gently they pulled their panties
Preaching to one another amidst copulation
The Bible kept far from bed
Softly replaced with pack of fanger
None was Godly alarmed
The Reason for the season ruefully undermined
Where then lies the climax
As ejaculation overtakes redemption
Who will save the saving Jesus
Lonely outstretched on the cross
Works already ongoing on the second grave
Christ Himself has run drought of blood
Where lies a candid remorse
For the pints already outpoured
Salvation has grown archaic
Wooing versus soul winning epitomize affray of the moment
How can the immoral game be refereed
The spinster is much in need of it
Gently lovely lowly she plays her wing
Who can suspend the salacious match
Time is here at hand
When Christ Himself shall arise with whistle
Showing the end of the match
And making selection for next league
Being the reason for the season.
Sixty-seven days after departing Flores Island in Europe’s westernmost waters, the schooner Heimdall and her stalwart crew has finally arrived at the mysterious Isla Socorro in the Revillagigedo Archipelagoes. The discoveries they make are astounding
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