Clouds
I can’t go out but my mind goes walkabout
Clouds
When I die, I think I would be happier in hell
As I’d get bored with singing hymns and St. Peter’s pearly bell
For if I had to float around or on those clouds recline
Just sipping holy water with not one gulp of wine
Due to my nosey nature, I’d poke holes to help me spy
To peep through all that fluffiness with my celestial eye
I’d watch what’s going on down there, and any birds that pass
Even more I want to know, how they spend my insurance brass
Then methinks I never was, successful with my diet
Those cream cakes that I did refuse, I ate ’em on the quiet
So if I am outstretched on clouds, doing whatever angels do
I truly, truly, truly pray…….my bums not sticking thro’
Glenys Halliday
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