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Mystery Society
by Owen Lorien
Throughout recent history,
the Masons have been plagued
By a misapprehension,
to a sad misnomer pegged.
This group of goodly fellows,
a brotherhood of man,
Has been accused of being
nothing but an evil scam!
What is the foundation
to disseminate such woe,
To spread such allegations
that the Masons are a foe?
It is the reputation
of our sweet Society
Of being much renowned
for its fabled SECRECY!
"Would you be a Mason?
Answer yes or answer no!"
There were times it could be dangerous
to tell some people so.
Though the Nazis took their vengeance
mainly on the Jewish folk,
The Mason also had to take
a care to whom he spoke.
There are the handshakes and the passwords
handed down for centuries
(Not that different from boys
with a clubhouse in the trees).
But what really makes us secret,
which the profane do despise,
Is the RITUALS we practice,
which we hide from prying eyes.
"Is it true you worship Satan?
Do you really ride a goat?
Is it fact that if you tell,
then someone will slit your throat?"
Oh, the myths that people make up
when they do not know the story
Of our "mystic" symbolism,
and our "shrouded" allegory!
Through the mischief of old Taxil,
and his forgeries of Pike
The Luciferian Heresy is
a simple lie outright.
It's outlived generations,
it's been totally debunked,
But repetitious demagogues
won't let it lay defunct.
When we address our Maker as
the G. A. O. T. U.
Do you wonder they assume
there's a GOAT among our crew?
Great Architect Of The Universe
may be what we call God,
But that's so we will not argue
in the confines of our Lodge.
The vows and oaths we take
are Draconian and fell,
(They bring to mind the punishments
of ancient Israel).
Yet they're purely metaphoric —
always will be, ever were —
But they bind us all as brothers
with a bond made to endure.
We say we're not political,
we do not foment war.
Then we brag about our heros:
Washington and Bolivar.
We've o'er our share of princes,
legislators, presidents.
This is a contradiction,
and a secret represents.
We say we're not religious,
that we promulgate no creed,
Yet we call our buildings temples,
and we Bible verses read.
We adapt to Jew and Gentile,
to Hinduism and Islam
So there must be a secret,
we can do this without qualm.
Master Mason is a title
that's not arrogant to bear,
But Worshipful, or Potentate,
or Grand Exalted chair?
The titles become fanciful,
the hats look awfully frilly.
What's the secret men respectfully
will seem to act this silly?
There is secret piled on secret,
but they really don't mean shucks
Any more than do the trappings
of our mighty muck-a-mucks.
What we're really all about
is the betterment of people,
Just as standing on the level
makes us all each others' equal.
So what's the answer brothers,
how do we shake this curse
Of being known as "secret",
and suspect of even worse?
Let's try to change the thinking —
starting with the friends we know —
That we're not a "Secret Order",
that's a term that's got to go.
Instead let's say the Masons
are a Lodge of "Mysteries".
Our rituals are plays:
detective stories if you please.
And just as it would spoil the play
to give away the end
So we conceal the ritual,
our mystery to defend.
As a "Mystery Society"
then let us now be known,
With the Mysteries of the Ages
as our Lodges' stepping stones.
Let the Mysteries of the Symbols
and the Mysteries of the Rite
Lend an air of Mystic Mysteriousness
to Masonry tonight!
Saurus
I've never even heard it before! In any of the five constitutions here in South Africa!