The lions who ate the Christians on the sands of the arena 
By indulging native appetites played what has now been seen a   
Not entirely negligible part 
In consolidating at the very start 
The position of the Early Christian Church. 
Initiatory rites are always bloody 
And the lions, it appears 
From contemporary art, made a study 
Of dyeing Coliseum sands a ruddy 
Liturgically sacrificial hue 
And if the Christians felt a little blue— 
Well people being eaten often do. 
Theirs was the death, and theirs the crown undying, 
A state of things which must be satisfying. 
My point which up to this has been obscured 
is that it was the lions who procured 
By chewing up blood gristle flesh and bone 
The martyrdoms on which the Church has grown. 
I only write this poem because I thought it rather looked   
As if the part the lions played was being overlooked. 
By lions’ jaws great benefits and blessings were begotten   
And so our debt to Lionhood must never be forgotten.