Witty Shop of Holsteins

Do we disagree when you say God will judge my soul and I say no?

I so wish we would just agree to get along!
We’re the same people who were here ages ago.

You can step up to the line but it’ll cost you a dollar per throw,
and you can take as many tries as you want to clang the gong:
you’ll say God will judge my soul, and I’ll say no,

and we’ll go on like that till we’re both ready to blow;
then we’ll sail away for a year and a day and settle among
the Jumblies, who also are the same people who were here ages ago,

except they’re even crazier, drunk all the time on ring-bo-
ree, fat on no end of stilton cheese—owl, cart—on our far-flung
ventures to the hills of the Chankly Bore, souls judged or no:

until finally we behold the finest, most variegated rainbow
ever seen by mortal eyes. Dressed only in thongs day-long,
we're the same people who were here ages ago—

for example, by the sleepy flowing waters of the River Po
in Northern Italy, from which the world’s largest catfish was wrung.
Do we disagree when I say the catch weighed two-eighty and God says no?
The same catfish was caught somewhere else ages ago.