With all this talk of reincarnation in the blogworld at present, my Limerick Muse has descended unbidden yet again. In the guise of Pam Ayres rather than Dante's Beatrice, methinks. After this, I must dwell on Higher Things.
A priest I'd not like to inhabit.
I'd rather come back as a rabbit.
A sadhu is sadder,
A bishop is badder,
And worse is a monk with his habit.
I'd think it exceedingly queer
To inhabit the soul of E. Lear,
His beard would stink much
Of bird crap and such,
And put off the women, I fear.
I'd find it exceedingly calmer
To reincarnate as a lama,
But knowing my luck
With a karma that's stuck,
I'll return as Bin Laden (Osama).
Oh dear. I must stop this. Please stop me, someone. Stop me NOW. Please. I beg you.