HEAVEN UNKNOWN
When I get to heaven it won't ever be,Foul deeds or fair. But if it's owned by
The local council, I'll probably find
it's closed for repairs.
In my life I've been no saint,
There waiting for the scaffolding.
The pearly gates they need a paint,
They don't want to pay the going rate
We need skilled workers to do the job.
So there waiting for a builder called Bob.
Then again here's the twist;
They won't let me in,
I'm not on the waiting list.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
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Written on 2024-01-25 at 12:18
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shells |
D G Moody |
Texts |
by Alan J Ripley Latest textsFOR MY LOVEWHAT IF DEMENTIA PRAYER Reflection of yesterday UNKNOWN JOURNEY |
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