British Hindu vs. British Muslim version of an Iyerish poem

British Hindu Version- 

Baby was just a domestic Krishna not a Virgin-born Christ and, as a Low I.Q. Hindu, I was perfectly prepared to respect this theological status of his- though I did, darkly, hint to him that his Catholic Mum would be cool with our cooking and eating him as our Goose or Turkey or Eucharist for Xmas because he was bound to resurrect himself by Easter.

Sadly, perhaps, due to systemic under-feeding by the baby's Mummy-person, I decided to unhinge my jaw and eat him. 

The Devi said ' Euw! Che schifo! Anyway, baby is strong. He will eat you!'

He didn't. Then, finding a more hospitable Hinduism in Bali, my wife left me. My son- who was smart and went to a Public School-  perfectly understandably, wants nothing to do with me. Yet, at that veritable Partha's parthogenesis, my Adi Shesha ate Krishna, so, as Kaliya, I could but tachyonically poison my own amniotic waters whose breaking were pralaya.

I swim a lot to retain some sanity. But it is as a beast, not one of the common pool of Humanity- whose waves are snakes- or for heaven sakes!

British Muslim version

Tho' sending half my wage home, I drank beer and played tournament level darts

Not Bingo, not Disco, Marx was my Mecca, not maiden hearts

Then, Mum died. Marrying a cousin, my Moon was Hilal.

Now, in Hounslow, Thy baby's cry, my Hazrat Bilal!