Beggar's Oil

A mustard seed is (has been said)

All that men will need

A filthy boy in a bowery lane

Under the times in a drowning rain

Stealing bits of sleep again

Has heard this comon creed



Grows into the tallest tree

To cool down the sinner's heat

I know this man, he's much like I

A doubter's cusp, a braggart's pyre

Sweltering in brandy-mire

And selling bitter meat



Exemplary of faith I guess

Starts with naught but soil

Upon the shoes of wayward men

Ministers will not befriend

Smite the temple yet again

Spill their precious oil



I've thrown my seed out the window

Down in the dirt below

I'll water it with my distrust

My blatant well-worn rough-hewn crust

I'll mojo it with voodoo dust

And pray that it will grow