They Tell There Are No Words There
P Patti Masterman
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They tell there are no words there,
Nor books anywhere about,
So should I go to heaven;
It seems to be in doubt?
They tell of gold clouds floating,
Of harp strings on the breeze,
But vapors makes my nose run;
And breezes make me sneeze.
The righteous souls amass there,
They say as, sure enough,
I'd rather bide the meek ones;
There's righteous here, full up..
If heaven swarms with angels,
But earth, with lowly souls-
I'd rather stay here, earthbound
Than take the heavens, whole..
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