In days of old the poets told a tale
A scout rode out to search the unforseen
To gather food and drink, to blaze a trail
A pious nobleman, charged by his queen
He was a fearless man and very wise
Outwitting those mistaking him a fool
His principles he would not compromise
His creed of life, "Obey the Golden Rule"
For many years he rode and sacrificed
His health and wealth, yet never one complaint
His pay for services grossly mispriced
They mourned him in the end, a selfless saint
The poets often cried, the tale so sad
His queen decreed henceforth,"He'll be called Dad"
Daniel Turner
Thank you Dad
All I think about is been with Christ
Live my life outside the dice
Understanding that He paid the price
So my sin wouldn’t be mispriced
All I do is get myself into trouble
Hovering around me like bubble
I wish I could be humble
Saving myself from this jumble
All I live for now is becoming like Christ
So I and Christ could be splice
So all my hurting could be iced
What remains is for me to entice others.
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