The Hand of God

"The wrath of God is upon us
He punishes us for our sins
Oh the destruction, oh the curse
Of so many deaths" cried the distraught prince

"Sins not of this birth alone
But of all the past lives we've lived"
Said the royal priest with a groan
"How much could the Lord have forgived"

Thus spoke the ants as I swatted
A bunch of them with a rough brush
Of my hand when I spotted
Them on my breakfast in the morning rush