The Shepherd Psalm, redacted by a Twenty-First Century editor in Babylon

A Psalm. A Lament.  To the tune of Please Do Not Destroy.

1 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall lack nothing.

2     He makes me lie down in green plastic,
he leads me beside quiet, stagnant waters,

(yea so quiet because behold, the genius water-proof plastic bag witholds the bubbling brook like the mighty walls of Nineveh)
3 

He refreshes my soul with all manner of good things:

Beautifully rusted tins and broken glass to tear my feet, grocery bags in a full rainbow of colours.
He guides me between the bright baths -discarded
    for their name’s sake (for why take the bath to Trash Collection when you can hurl it from the motorway?).
4 Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for Mankind is with me;
their plastic spoon and their straw,
    they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil (actually only the discarded bottle of sunflower oil);
    their landfill overflows.
6 Surely your garbage and litter will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the heap of these Litter LORDS
    forever- or until that wretched aluminium can ring-pull* cuts a hole in my stomach and leaves me floating and lifeless in those quiet, stagnant waters.

* In the US, called a pull-tab.  Curiously, Iraqi drinks cans roll back the years to the dangerous, removable sharp ring-pulls that were phased out in Britain circa 1990.