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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Did Turn and Toss Like An Albatross Last Sunday was first Sunday for our new priest. Saw his name on program which was creased. Heard his sermon and were pleasantly pleased. During our dreams we did turn and toss; What if new priest had been an albatross; Great sermon gave; Now is latest rave; Are fortunate that him we came across. Priest possessed a potent potential; His sermons to hear were essential; Further pried; Never lied; Practiced philosophy of existential. By God new priest was properly wired; Way up high, he really had been fired; Temptation fought, And we got caught; Now know why we became so inspired. When a new priest to our church came, He and I would always think the same; Is running rabbit, Creature of habit; Go ahead and give Trump all the blame. That is what he kind of was saying in his sermon without mentioning Trump's name and claim to fame which was such a shame. Priest said that when we had talent we were supposed to spread it all around like I am doing. Why would I want to be called a sinner for not doing it. So am I sinning to be sinning from the beginning or out have they started thinning; When God saved me from them I will be winning. How about this one Once knew a benevolent Bedouin Only drank water and ate gelatin; Skinny did seam; No ice cream; So started looking like a skeleton. For now know this should be enough; Were well aware had been a big bluff, Ideas did form; Another storm; Had naked thoughts when in the buff. New priest came after his predecessor, He sure did seem to be a sin stresser; When pleased; Sins squeezed; Went out and bought a big compressor. New vocal priest would play a violin; Did so he could free himself from sin; Saw new dawn; Sins all gone; Finished and said give me some skin. Great Scott and then guten morgan; From all around world and Oregon; Keys did tickle, While in pickle, When we heard Marg play the organ. Things have really become the pits, So guess quietly should call it quits; Hard to explain; Brain did drain; Horrible poems are everyone admits. Jim Horn Jim Horn
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