All I observed using science,
Was this world can hardly be flat,
Nor have an edge you can fall off,
Yet The Inquisition would have none of that.
Oh no for my plausible utterings,
They burnt me alive with great glee,
Though not before spending a week on the rack,
And so a martyr I be.
Yet scroll forward in time just a little,
When cosmic study led me to point out,
That to the universe the Earth wasn’t centre,
‘Twas the Sun, I had little doubt.
For that crime I was first garrotted,
Then hung, drawn and quartered some say,
In truth I have no recollection,
Such was my pain on that day.
Yet I bare the Pope no malice,
Even though I was killed in the name,
Of the religion that he is the head of,
The one that should take all the blame,
For relying just on dubious scriptures,
And saying that I did transgress,
For when he found out that I was right,
To my concepts he did address,
A twist in those very same scriptures,
The ones he had used once before,
To justify a change in direction,
The Vatican’s image he did restore,
So pity us poor scientist martyrs,
In truth there was no heresy,
Let the church jumble facts and twist legends,
And no posthumous pardon for me!