For Christopher Hitchens: a funeral gigue!
Let’s hail with laughter the end of his gig,
For sorrow and tears he’d not give a fig,
Having avoided the infernal brig.
Hitch was a dandy of sinister bent
Who dexterously later came to repent,
Though he never would go the full extent:
From atheism he would not relent!
Struck down by Fate - or by God, who can tell?
He was seized by fear that a fear of hell,
In a delirium, like a bad smell,
Seep from his lips, and his life’s work dispel.
Thus Mr. Hitchens has left us to find
How we’re to know that his so-called "right mind"
Has any more right our credence to bind
Than the final gasp of his soul resigned?