No Moor

In seven eleven they stepped off from Gibraltar
And brought their ways and weapons intent to alter
And change the world with math and minaret
Their light arose and night upon dark ages set

Without Godís power of Holy Spiritís sword
The church became as weak as pagan horde
Bishops fought for seats of gold and meats
On wine soaked tables and blood stained sheets

Monks and Nuns prayed in smoke filled rooms
Mendicants begged, and bones of saints filled tombs
Ignorance, itself a spirit and a fog of war
Seemed to touch the church, but not the Moor

Like a plague of locust, the sons of Hagar came
For this we lay at Abramís feet the blame
who tried to do Godís work that only God could do
Now Flesh- the enemy of both the saint and Jew

Then in fourteen hundred ninety two
Spain drove out both Moor and Jew
and thought to win with sword and knife
thinking whip and rack could bring new life

Then set sail the armored Conquistador
Driving the Arab from their shore
The church awakened and sought new spoil
Not holy things, but gold; now oil

Again come sons of Ishmael fame
And set the Christian world aflame
Perhaps a prophet indeed though false
To warn a church who tries to waltz

With the world in all its worldly ways
While trying still to give God praise

The west so blind, it is not funny
Evilís root, the love of money









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