Another hired shepherd came to take over our flock.
He proved another false pastor – all Christ’s commands he’d mock.
He’d make his living off us – he lived parasitically
As every wolf has ever done us immemorially.
He fleeced the flock down to the bone – and some of his sheep died.
‘No point in wasting mutton chops!’ Their carcasses were fried.
The pastor took a sharpened knife and called for volunteers
To offer up a pound of flesh – to pay him his arrears.
He’d take an leg. Or take an arm. Some even lost their head.
And vampire-like he’d suck our blood – all which we gladly shed
To serve the Lord (he told us). Pastor Wolf increased his gain
And cursed with anathemas all those who thought they’d complain.
So Pastor Wolf grew fat and strong – but also heart-diseased From surfeit.
Then he died. At last we sheep were greatly pleased.
We turned ourselves to pasture – then we fattened and grew strong.
How long until another Pastor Wolf shall come along?