Sorry State Of Affairs
Ted The Confessor sends his apology:
Shouldn't have given the Normans the nod.
Here is a telegram. Curse my theology,
Fire and brimstone, all the best, God.
O mea culpa say modern Italians:
Imperial phalanxes – vice, never valour.
Spain bows its head – all those gallows and galleons.
Here is a fax. It was my fault, says Allah.
New Chinese whispers, confessing what terrors
Were launched by their leaders from Ming through to Mao.
The Pope bows his head for his cardinal errors.
History's hangmen hang heads as they bow.
Being in love means you never say sorry:
Segal admits this was stupid to say.
Hunters pay homage to all of their quarry.
Men look to women; forgiveness, they pray.
The past offers field-days for shame, self-abasement.
Nations heal wounds with the humility's suture.
Mirrors reveal what the cruel old face meant.
But where's the apology sent to the future?
