We don’t do God. We’ve got big numbers now.
The magic zeros replicate for ever
Their demonstration of the why and how
We have cleansed our church of God, being so clever
The mysteries prove unmysterious:
Hell’s bells, the mines of sulphur, flames and flails,
Devils with forks and fangs—can you be serious?
We need no tolerance for fairy tales;
Our world goes way, way back, a zillion zillion
Years. And these days there’s our First XI
Of Scientific Cracks in the pavilion
Determined to engage the Host of Heaven.
Armed to the teeth with figures, facts and fossils,
We’ll devastate His Angels and Apostles.