The Ballad of John Darcy

"In light so poor, I am barely sure
I could even read a letter
Go back and make that light again
And this time, do it better."
Well, God was mad, but if light was bad
Then the rest of it wouldn't go right
So again He raised His mighty hand
And again "Let there be light!"

The second day dawned cold and grey
So God from His seat on high
Stretched out His hand upon the void
And created the endless sky
It was clear and blue, there were cloudbursts too
And a lot of rain and snow
But ol' John Darcy came along
And he said "Your sky's too low!"

"I don't know why you made a sky
If that's all that you can do
The jet stream should be in the stratosphere
And it shouldn't be quite so blue
God wanted to weep, 'cause He needed sleep
But whatever His desire
He had to make the world just right
So He lifted the sky up higher

On day the third, God spoke a word
And made a little motion
And all the waters rushed on forth
And formed a mighty ocean
It was full of fish as a soul could wish
And as deep as such things get
But then mean John Darcy came along
And he said "Your sea's too wet!"

"If that's your notion of a decent ocean
Then creation will never survive!
The thermocline's barely there at all!
And there shouldn't be fish 'till day five!"
God wanted to curse, or do something worse
Or at least to sit down and cry
But He sighed and stomped and He got on up
And He hung the seas out to dry

Though He dreaded more, it was just day four
And His work had just begun
So He hung up high a couple stars
And below he stuck the sun
And far beneath he placed the moon
More silvery and more mellow
But then ol' John Darcy came along
And he said "That sun's too yellow!"

"It's too bright and crass, and its spectral class
Is at least G6 or 7
The corona's mixed up with the heliosphere
And it doesn't go well with Heaven."
God was pretty pissed, and He shook his fist
And demanded John leave Him be
But He stifled a yawn and he soldiered on
And He made the sun G3.

God hadn't slept, but on He kept
Cause it still was just day five
And made birds and beasts and creeping things
And everything else alive
And at last each one was completely done
And God felt pretty sleepy
But then mean John Darcy came and said
"Your creeping things are too creepy!"

"The legs they've got are distinctly not
The legs there ought to be
This millipede here's got a thousand and eight
And this centipede, hundred and three!"
God was spent for the night, but John was right
So He dropped His pillow and sheet
And He stared at the bugs till the crack of dawn
And He counted out their feet.

God was feeling lousy He had grown so drowsy
By the time day six began
But with a grumble He raised His hand
And He thus created Man.
When at last He saw all His work complete
He broke into a grin full
But then ol' John Darcy came along
And he said "Your Man's too sinful!"

"He's weak in will and he'll love to kill
You've misplaced his cerebellum
His appendix ain't good for nothing at all
And one good kick can fell 'em.
He'll grow weak and old, and he'll lust for gold
And be robber and invader."
But God just yawned, and He yawned again,
And He said "I'll fix it later".

Then came day seven, and God in Heaven
Looked out on what He had done
The peaks were high and the plains were dry
And the spring had just begun
The poles were cold and the beaches gold
And the deserts were piping hot
And God looked and saw that it was good
And John Darcy said "It's not!"

"The poles will shift and the icecaps drift
And the plates are poorly planned
And the mountains are low, and the spring's too short
And the deserts have too much sand
I don't like the tide, and the ice's too wide
And the seas are much too blue
And the angels are barely angelic at all
And what kind of God are YOU?"

God had had enough of this sort of stuff
And by now He was hopping mad
"Now I've done my best, and I need a rest.
And the peaks aren't quite so bad
And the oceans are nice and I like the ice
And the angels work really well
And I'm a fierce and a wrathful God
And YOU can go to hell!

With a mighty throw, he sent John below
To the depths of the lake of fire
Where with only the devil around him to hear
He can whine to his heart's desire
And there he'll stay till the Judgment Day
When Heaven itself should totter
He'll be shouting loud towards the highest cloud
"Your Hell should be much hotter!"