Under the Cherry Tree

As I was so sitting by
Under a tree,
My tear and I couldn't cry.
Neither could we.

So sit and we wait
Both through mourning and summer
When Jesus was late
And the devil was dumber.

But who was the hero
And he was the slave.
Both were not zero.
The knight was the knave.

So still waiting longer;
My pain getting stronger
We dealt with the monger.
(My mother was wronger.)

The devil, he sat
With the colonel's fried chicken,
As Jesus got fat
From the bread.
written and © by David Spelling 1987
layout © 2008 Dunn by Paul