The Prodigal Father

The Prodigal Father – A Thrashing of Thorns

This is the tale of the fatted calf –

And if you’re a veggie, it’s time to switch orf.

Rich meat – a tasty treat –

Too fat by half.

Real veal – a top meal,

Much better than mutton;

Roasted with champignons,

Chestnut and button.

Witness the fatted calf fed on the best;

Leftover leavings were fed to the rest.

Fat calf – such a larf – wouldn’t eat his crusts –

Gave them to the sparrows – who relished them, one trusts.

Well one day – in May – when the sun was setting,

Farmer Fred – Grey Head – set the fat calf sweating:

Built a barbie right on cue and sat the calf on top.

Don’t wriggle – sit still: you’re for the chop.

Fat calf wasn’t happy – you can hardly blame him;

Screamed in protest – swore in Turkish – terror overcame him.

Till they told him how he came to top the evening menu:

Me ‘n you are celebrating: son number two.

He’s home – no comb and a flea or three;

Back from SIN CITY – truly sorry – see?

He was lost – now he’s found – he was dead and gone.

Now he’s back from the grave – and I’ve got my son.

Fat calf smiled a smile. Said he was delighted.

Hadn’t known the son was missing but could see Fred was excited.

Said to Fred, “You need me dead. That’s why you chose to feed me.

Pleased to hear about your son. Now be careful how you bleed me.”

If you’d have been the fatted calf, would you have been so willing

To lay upon the barbecue, and star as top billing?

Did it for the Master. Did it for his son.

Joined in the celebration. Fed the guests for fun.

Fat calf – too fat by half – such a tasty treat –

Willing sacrifice, he gave them his best meat.

Willing sacrifice, He gave them His only Son.

Prodigal – the Father – aye: that’s the One.

Luke 15