balladeers urging                                                     lyrical words from their drought                                                 not so pretty and bleak swept                                               pub life turn away from tradition   ...

I dreamt I saw Vulcan the God of Fire in human shape; I was walking in a forest drenched in rain; He stood with arms extended crying; The planet is rapidly heating and I am fearful; Volcanoes cannot match spreading greenhouse gasses; He is not the God of Volcanoes anymore; And I rejoiced that my new faith will convert him.     This heating world is the place for my beliefs; And I have chosen to worship Climate Change; Instantly I desired to demonstrate global warming to him; And tell him I am willing to bear scoffers and sneerers; And suffer beastly trolling for his sake; And in my rejoicing my heart was beating very quickly.   I believe this new happiness is the getting of me; Though not yet pleasant, for I am still learning joy; Walking with the new Vulcan in the rain; Feeling nervously happy and growing humble; And I said that I did not deserve this happiness; And the new Vulcan told me nor did he.

And persuading preachers love their daily glory; But when their glory doesn’t last, they become depressed; And pleading prayers are offered to their God; Giving thanks for the sensational times spent persuading; Their solemn sorrows aired in fallacious spasms.