On the whole as typists pray
Into long and glorious hay
I stand, blindly staring at the sun
Bored throughout by lack of fun
Then my lips began to pray
Thank you for horses eating hay
Thank you for the searing sun
Please give me some sense of fun
I beseech thee Lord, I pray
As others lie down in hay
As all begin sleeping, even the sun
Why do I no longer have fun?
Through night I stand and pray
Not touching God’s glorious hay
Until all woke with the magnificent sun
But still, God did not give me fun
A voice cried out, I heard it say
Repent! Let your foolishness be done
I give loving joy both night and day
Come back to me my little one
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey