Thank GOD

The loving universe

My lucky stars

Any number of talismans

They are not shelling the city

To dust and ruble

To burnt out buildings,

And bombed hospitals

The bakers have been supplied with wheat, barley and rye

The smell of bread is in the shops

Nobody is queuing around the block

The shelves are racked, stacked, packed with food

So why the tension, the stress

The deep unsatisfied sighs,

The sharp intake of breath

People becoming quite upset

At having to wait for five minuets

At a supermarket check out