29 NOVEMBER 1963, Page 11

The Devil's Own Song

So you have come at last to journey's end; Pretence is vain; You should have learned the facts of life, my friend; They've won again.

Religion, 1 admit, is well enough Within its sphere; But yours was foolish, high-falutin stuff; It brought you here.

So count your fatuous maundering dead loss: From Galilee It brought you hither to this shameful cross; Don't you agree?

If you had listened in that desert spot To me, you ass, I could have made you quite as big a shot As Caiaphas.