|
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. |