Written by: Michael Higginbotham

Uriah's bowels unraveled in the sand.
He thanked God for the gift of dying for
King David, who was master of the man.
Those Hittites never seemed to know the score.
Bathsheba was the prize that David sought,
Uriah inadvertently occluding
His royal lust, so winkling out a thought,
King David killed her husband by colluding
With his generals to make the Hittite die.  
Afoam with sweat, Bathsheba grinds the King
Indecently.  Beneath a yawning sky,
Uriah's writhing in the sand and gasping,
Holding his ****ing kidney in his hand.
I've never felt more sorry for a man.