The saddest place in the world for a heathen,nIs this place, let’s burn it down,nOoh, what a storm made a delivery - here’s Saul the tax collector,nWhy didn’t you all just let him drown?nThis is the tale of St. Paul,nAnd of how he was shipwrecked on those Maltese rocks far below,nHear my account of the unwritten Bugibba priesthood;nWho saved his life that millions might die when they let him go.nnAnd one dissenting priest says:n“And in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your name.nAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your name”nnThe tax collector was sailing to Rome,nAnd in chains in the hold, as the empire’s enemy,nOozing with hatred and purest contempt for the women’s religionsnAnd all of their mystery.nnAnd one dissenting priest says:n“And in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your name.”nnThen to the strangers of Ephesus, Saul took the message of Christ,nBut he made it all his own,nThereafter, he took the name of St. Paul,nAnd the Nazarene’s word was perverted from that day on,nChanges were made, yes,nBut change is perfunctory unless those changes are acted upon,nHuge was the debt the new patriarchal religions owned to the Tarsian turncoat,nFor he - not Jesus - was their true Son.nn“And in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nThat’s when I caught your namenAnd in that heathen light,nI caught your name.nnI caught your namenI caught your name”