Who will bury a young bomber
Who’s shot by cops, and needs to rest?
“Not us!” said the Small Town.
“We won’t share our graveyard with no terrorist,
And our pure holy ground’s too good for that beast…”

Who’ll inter a little bomber,
And who will speak a little prayer?
“Not us!” said the Mosque.
“Though he worshipped with us, we’ll thoroughly disown.
We’d be hounded to death if those ties became known…”

And who will have mercy in his mind,
And who’ll take this decaying bomber?
“Not us!” said the Commonwealth.
“Oh, we’ll bury rapists, mass shooters, and drunks,
But not un-Amer’can Muslim young punks…”

Who’ll inter a rotting bomber?
Will no one claim him secretly?
“One will,” said the Lord,
“For all I’ve created is precious to me.
On earth was he born; in earth he shall be.”