Simon Of Cyrene

He was carrying his cross for his crucifixion I was there, it was not fiction, And every step that he took he was spat upon And he was hit and kicked with force and brawn. They called him names with every step that he took And he wasn't a liar, or a murderer, or a crook, As he headed to Golgotha, the place of a skull He kept on hearing people screaming hate and sin by the earful. Then at him someone threw another rock Then I heard others just laugh and mock, On this cross he was carrying he will be crucified And everyone will laugh, after he has suffered and died. When he couldn't carry his cross to its final course For me who was a passerby to carry it, they did force, So, I carried the cross up the hill to Calvary Where he will be crucified as one of the three. They had already stripped him of his purple robe Now his own clothes would be his wardrobe, He'll be nailed on the cross in his every limb I, Simon of Cyrene, was the one who carried the cross for him. Randy L. McClave