The Ancient Critic
Why am I so critical of things that I don’t like?
Should others always have to do the things that I prefer?
Maybe I should consider getting on my bike.
For surely other people have the right to breathe the air?
I throw my toys out of the pram when music lines repeat
And go quite apoplectic when leaders start to waffle!
Do I need to huff and puff and shuffle on my seat?
A rambling prayer surely isn’t all that awful!
I was taught, “Say something nice, or else just hold your
tongue”
Not to criticise and moan behind another’s back!
A lesson I’ve forgotten since the days when I was young.
Or else, with my distemper, I’ve simply lost the knack.
Why can’t I just encourage and ignore my irritation?
Let people do the things they will, which others may enjoy.
Allow them scope to follow what is their inclination
Not carp and criticise the varied means that they employ.
O Father grant that I may never be a critic,
The one who sits in judgement on the rest.
Let me rather be enthusiastic
Helping others seek to be the best!
