218 thoughts on “Really Bad Poetry”

  1. This instantly reminded me of a Mark Twain story I read a long time ago, called “A Literary Nightmare.”
    Quoting Wikipedia:

    The story is about Twain’s encounter with a virus-like jingle, and how it occupies his mind for several days until he manages to “infect” another person, thus removing the jingle from his mind

    This is the jingle in the story:

    Conductor, when you receive a fare,
    Punch in the presence of the passenjare!
    A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare,
    A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare,
    A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare,
    Punch in the presence of the passenjare!
    Punch brothers! Punch with care!
    Punch in the presence of the passenjare!

    Methinks Schaap’s poem shares that “virus-like” quality!

    1. It’s very different for one reason: The jingle in the story served some theoretical PURPOSE. THIS phonetic meandering has no meat unspoiled by dirt from the floor.

      But it IS rather infectious, to be sure.

    2. Anyone familiar with the Homer Price short stories will know about that one, and how addictive it can be 😀

  2. Too many comments to read, but someone may have already said this, i will find out in a second but here goes:

    I am not going to listen to this at all.
    He inserted the word “Win”
    Go, Baptise, Teach.

    Jesus never said win.

    What the heck?

  3. Jack’s decision to avoid using meter was a good one, because meter means there’s a rhythm, and rhythm can lead to dancing.

  4. I’m really sorry to hear they have a Hyles-Anderson College of West Africa. Spreading the crazy here and abroad.

  5. They should rap that – it would be slightly more tolerable. Or maybe sing it to the tune of “the song that never ends” since it seems to have more verses than “Just as I am” on building fund Sunday.

  6. Haven’t read the replies so I don’t know if anyone else feels like I do, but my first thought when reading that was, “WHEN IS IT EVER GOING TO END?!?!?” :mrgreen: Sheesh, that was a very long, very bad poem.

  7. Just the other day, I was looking through my old poetry and thinking how terrible it was. I feel a little better now.

    But this is just another thing that makes me feel sick to my stomach and wonder if I’ll ever find Jesus in all of this mess. It sounds nice enough in places, but look towards the end. He basically SAYS that if you’re not seeing Jesus in us, it’s because your soul isn’t right. It’s something wrong with YOU. It’s all plank-eyed nonsense straight from The Cult-Leader’s Handbook. Where is God?? How can we find Him with all these false teachers?!

    The REAL question, Heir Schapp, is how WE can sit here and let madmen like you corrupt youth in this fashion? GAH!! 👿

  8. Africa is becoming the new world center of fundamentalism and right-wing evangelicalism. Just ask the Anglicans.

  9. I read parts of this to my husband who is incredulous that thinking people attend Schaap’s church. I told him that’s the problem, they are not thinking for themselves. He said, “That’s a cult.” BINGO.

    1. this just might be worse >.<

      "Wow! Did you hear that sermon truth
      From man in business suit?
      His collar straight, no robe I see.
      He's plucking souls like fruit!!"

      Just….stop. Make it go awaaaaaay!!!!

    2. Wow! That one somehow seems worse than the first one. So much to pick apart, but the central point that kept coming back to me as I read it was Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the tree in Daniel 4. I’m perfectly fine living the rest of my life without ever having anyone compare me to a tree that it the tallest. I have enough problems with pride on my own without anyone else adding to it.

      1. Back when I read it, I was inspired to create a parody. I swear if you didn’t know it, you’d think it was sincere.

        I was born in a lowly stable
        just a little spotted calf,
        I sensed my life would not be long,
        I’d never grow to play and laugh.

        My mother was an older cow
        Who provided milk and cream
        But as a male I was born to die
        Long life was just a dream.

        But still there was some hope for me
        That I could do some good
        I’d heard about this royal chair
        That started as some wood.

        Perhaps my hide could be used to wrap
        This man’s Scofield KJV
        I’d be the sword in the hands
        Of fundamentalist royalty

        Or maybe I’d be the belt of truth
        Wrapped ’round the God man’s waist
        I’d hold him up as he preached the Word
        and save dear souls with haste.

        He’d pull me off for another use
        When his children needed spanked
        The rod of correction I could be
        And later I’d be thanked

        I have an even higher dream
        If I could be so bold
        Could I just be a leather coat
        To shelter him from cold.

        It’s really just a small request
        It could hardly be deemed wrong
        To be the garment that is touched
        By the many admiring throngs

        What’s this I hear you have in store
        What is this fate I’ll meet?
        I’m going to be a pair of shoes?
        You’re going to put me on his feet?

        Stacy Adams? Who are they?
        Designers of men’s clothes?
        How I wish I could just be a coat,
        Rather than cover his toes.

        Oh please, dear Lord, why must I be
        given a fate so bleak
        To have to endure smelly socks
        seven days a week

        But then I heard the Lord’s reply
        and I want the world to know
        That while the coat would keep him warm
        His shoes would make him go.

        The miles he trod to seek the lost
        he made through snow and rain
        and I protected him from the cold
        and kept him out of pain.

        I walked with him for many miles
        I caught his many tears
        I also felt his laughs and smiles
        As he wore me through the years.

        Now I see God’s bigger plan
        that He had in store for me
        Of all the things God could have done
        I became part of history.

        I never preached a sermon
        I never read the Word
        But I was there for every step
        As he made God’s voice heard.

        Just a humble little calf
        born in a stable filled with hay,
        What have I done in my life you ask?
        This is what I say:

        I provided soles that saved some souls
        and filled some empty pews;
        Without a voice I preached the word
        For I became Jack Hyles’ shoes.

        1. Very, very well done! And you’re right — if you hadn’t told us, this is the very sort of thing that the koolaid drinkers at HAC would come up with!

        2. I did add a final verse that would have given it away:

          My legacy has now been set
          Of this you can be sure
          That this poor cow, though long since dead,
          Could still help spread manure. 😀

  10. On the last page, he DOES have a point, as much as I hate to say it 😛 He has his “right” Bible, dresses “right,” looks “right,” but if he isn’t helping other people (spiritually and physically) it doesn’t really mean anything.

    But yeah, this is pretty horrid poetry.

  11. Wow. This is utterly amazing. I can’t look away, and it’s like staring at the sun too long or something. It’s just so bad- I think I’m hooked on Schaap poetry now. (and thanks pblawman for the link to the chair poem)

  12. Is it possible that an opportunity for a Fundy musical has been missed? While humble, faithful ministers of the gospel are to be commended, maybe the others could also be recognized in a Broadway production.

    With apologies to Zero Mostel, some highlights from:

    “The Fiddler with the Truth”

    Play begins with Pastor singing a rousing rendition of, “Tradition.”

    Pastor sings, “If I Won a Rich Man
    Ya ha deedle deedle deedle deedle deedle deedle sum
    All day long I’d calculate his tithe,
    If I won a wealthy man…”

    In another scene Pastor belts out, “Soulwinner, Soulwinner catch me a catch.
    Walk to the gate, open the latch;
    Faith and repentance are misunderstood—
    If they say the prayer, they’re good!…”

    And, of course there’s Pastor doing the melancholy number:
    “Some Tithe/ Not Yet”

  13. This site stayed active for probably longer than most of us would have thought, but not as long as many of us would have liked. It would have been nice to see regular new comments at least until the one year anniversary. Personally, I also regret that there was never an SFL reunion. But then that would have been tough to organize.

    Anyway, regarding the idea for the bad Fundy musical recognizing those who misuse scripture, here’s an addendum:

    (Mrs. Pastor aka “The First Lady of the Church” joins in on the third verse–

    I preached on giving all last summer.
    I taught on stew-ard-ship this fall.
    Someone tell me why the col-lec-tion
    Is So Small–
    Some tithe/Not yet.
    Some tithe/ Not yet…

    Mazel tov and shalom

Comments are closed.