Given the imposing setting, the poem launches loftily 'as the vox humana swells,/And the beauteous fields of Eden/Bask beneath the Abbey bells'. The tone is at once deliberately undermined by selfish sentiment in this ironic impersonation of a pompous, egocentric 'worshipper':

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans.
Spare their women for Thy Sake,
And if that is not too easy
We will pardon Thy Mistake.
But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be,
Don't let anyone bomb me.

Such satirical anti-climax catches the nuance of character and effectively exposes prejudices, triviality and sanctimonious hypocrisy. The jaunty rhythm and easy rhyming also challenge any pretence of sincerity.

It is, certainly, what one contributor to the programme describes as 'an unusual sort of war poem'. Another contributor decides that the subject 'is not a target of hatred or true contempt; we just had a laugh about her', concluding that 'there are much more important targets for our hatred of this period in history.'