People pack the streets to hail their Messiah
Adversaries keep their distance, out of the way,
Lying in the wings they plot and conspire,
Mobs are fickle, not too difficult to sway.
Scattered with palms, the way is strewed,
Upon the colt of an ass, Jesus hopes yet grieves.
Now Israel divides, leaders collude,
Daringly, Joseph of Arimathea believes.
A judgement awaits you, you vipers’ brood,
You who turned the temple into a den of thieves.