Simply celebrating life
I think it's like riding down hill on a sled in the snow. You still get a thrill and you still have hope you'll reach the bottom safely.My son's tumor shunk and his operation is Thrusday morning.Please continue to keep him inyour prayers! GOD Bless You and Yours!!!
The Cape of Good Hope Is on a slopeThings are going downhillBut I find it has no thrill - At least not of the sortwith which joy is bought.
Ah, the lovely Cape Horn,was not where I was born.But I knew a man whose homewas down there midst the foamand the flotsam and the jetsomand the driftwood and the sand.He always talked at lengthabout his beloved homeland.So lovely did it sound,I asked him to take me round.To show me all the placesand all his familiar faces.Due south for ten hours we flewand he seemed to get more blue.Going home is never easy,but it seemed to make him queasy.Upon returning to his land,he refused to hold my hand.He wouldn't call me honey,not for any amount of money.And most certainly no kiss,or a night time of loving bliss.It seemed with his family nearhe had become a lot less 'queer'.One final manly slap on the back,and I decided that my bag I would pack.He begged and he pleaded,But what he that he really needed,the love of different man.One who would put up with his sham.
I think it's like riding down hill on a sled in the snow. You still get a thrill and you still have hope you'll reach the bottom safely.
ReplyDeleteMy son's tumor shunk and his operation is Thrusday morning.
Please continue to keep him in
your prayers! GOD Bless You and Yours!!!
The Cape of Good Hope
ReplyDeleteIs on a slope
Things are going downhill
But I find it has no thrill -
At least not of the sort
with which joy is bought.
Ah, the lovely Cape Horn,
ReplyDeletewas not where I was born.
But I knew a man whose home
was down there midst the foam
and the flotsam and the jetsom
and the driftwood and the sand.
He always talked at length
about his beloved homeland.
So lovely did it sound,
I asked him to take me round.
To show me all the places
and all his familiar faces.
Due south for ten hours we flew
and he seemed to get more blue.
Going home is never easy,
but it seemed to make him queasy.
Upon returning to his land,
he refused to hold my hand.
He wouldn't call me honey,
not for any amount of money.
And most certainly no kiss,
or a night time of loving bliss.
It seemed with his family near
he had become a lot less 'queer'.
One final manly slap on the back,
and I decided that my bag I would pack.
He begged and he pleaded,
But what he that he really needed,
the love of different man.
One who would put up with his sham.