It is unusual to find me here, in town.
I never did like crowds. The smell,
The dust, the racket. I can do without it.
But it’s a special occasion, and well,
I haven’t seen him in a long, long time.
Followed his career with interest, mind.
Well, hardly career, but he’s made his mark
They all have, and good on them I say.
The whole country needs shaking up
And they’re the boys to do it.
Things are coming to a head now.
History in the making, you can sense it.
That’s why I’m here. I may be old
But not too old to lend a hand
Lift a sword and strike a blow for freedom.
Question is, when push comes to shove
Will they stand and fight, or run for it?
They’ll not fight alone, that’s for sure.
The rank and file will rally round
Even though the odds are stacked against.
Too many leeches with too much to lose
The mobsters, the spies, the black marketeers.
Too many fingers in too many pies.
The backhanders, the sweeteners, the graft
The wheeler-dealers, the sultans of sleaze.
The ones who feed on the carrion of conflict
Who profit from the status quo
Who fuel the hatreds that keep
The tribes apart. Who know
That where there’s fear, there’s money.
Unless this Jesus can provide the glue
By all accounts he knows a thing or two.
Peace is what he preaches. A coded message
That’s clear to understand: There’ll be no peace
Until Rome has been driven from this land.
And my son knows that. That’s why
He got involved. To fight for the cause.
A chip off the old block and no mistake.
But smarter. Not like his old man, hot-headed.
He likes to plan. Take stock. Cool in a crisis.
Ah, there’s something happening now.
Can you hear the cheering? It must be them.
The crowd is ecstatic, and the soldiers,
Under orders, keeping out of the way.
Nervous too, a good sign that, I’d say.
But where’s my lad? Ah, there he is
At the back, following at a slower pace.
Looks strangely downcast, I must confess.
But no doubt the sight of his old dad
Will bring a smile to his face…
‘Judas!… Judas!’