Displacement

Some swear that Noah built an ark
That wound up on Mount Ararat
Where the cargo could disembark
As fast as Secretariat.
They'd been so horribly crowded
And were keen for an outdoor trot
Now that the skies were unclouded
And Earth became a drier spot.
Yet still the ark is trapped on high
Perhaps awaiting one more flood
By climate change people deny,
Convinced that science is a dud,
And only able to ascertain
That Christ, and the south, will rise again.