Crows song of himself —revised

( this poem makes so much more sense if the word crow is read backwards)

when God hammered WORK

He made gold

when God roasted WORK in the sun

He made diamond

When God crushed WORK under weights

He made alcohol

when God tore  WORK to pieces

He made money

when God blew WORK up

He made day

when GOD hung work on a tree

He made fruit 

when God tried to chop WORK in two

He made woman

when God said: ‘ You win, WORK’

He made the redeemer

when God went off in dispair

WORK stopped his beak 

and started in

in the two thieves.

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