The earth is full of pain and woe
And so a-hunting we will go
To save two legs or grab an ear
And make the sinful ones to hear
The good news of some heavenly sphere;
No time to fix the world that’s here.
It’s bound to burn before too long
And we will all have been long gone
The Rapture is our sure escape
before the world will Tribulate
Until that day we’ve but one plan:
To save the souls of our fellow man.
It little matters what they lack
Hungry? Here’s a gospel tract.
We had some fantastic entries the other day in response to Jack Schaap’s awful doggerel that both were entertaining and informative. Today’s challenge is to compose a bit of verse about any fundamentalist topic you choose. Lay out a limerick, hustle up a haiku, furnish us with free verse.
The poem judged to be best will be awarded with bragging rights and an honorary doctorate in Pulpit Poetry from Old Paths U.
There are so many things that bring joy to this season:
Carols and presents and remembering the Reason
the angels brought tidings of Peace and Goodwill.
Wise Men, they’ve told us, are seeking Him still.
But for fundies the Christmas joys hardly end there;
There are so many other great moments to share…
Looking for Santa and KJV cards
Decoding the prophets and missing by yards
Correcting traditions of donkeys and of kings
Giving a Bible instead of mere things
Singing cantatas with someone’s demise
And not using “Xmas” which fundies despise
Santa gets shot which is greeted with cheers
and canceling Sunday once each seven years
Claiming that Joseph was quite an old geezer
(Yes, making up stuff is a certain crowd-pleaser)
But here on this blog we’ll remember with laughter
all of that nonsense we once followed after
Then give thanks to God we’ve now taken flight
Merry Christmas to each of you and to each a good night.
(Written In the Grand Tradition of Fundamentalist Doggerel)
Presbys don’t witness
Pentecostals use tongues
(demonic, I think).
Anglican pastors preach in a dress
(And some are actual women no less!)
Lutherans take the Lord’s Supper too much
And then there are Amish, so far out of touch
The Baptist Conventions just keep compromising
On the Old Paths and Standards and Version Revising
But as for me and my house we’ll stand here alone
And wait for the Rapture to come take us home
The Body of Christ we will be, compartmental
You say “anti-social,” we say “fundamental”