Before I lay me down to slum
in winter, fall, or spring or summ,
I raise my prayers to God in Heav
and say, "I trust you Lord, whatev
you're cooking up, a curse or bless,
and yet I have a small confess:
I wouldn't mind some health and mon,
a loin more fruitful than a bunn,
a joyous life crowned by longev.
Is that too much to ask? Whatev."
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Last edited by Roger Slater; 10-16-2010 at 08:15 AM.
Reason: tinkered with last two lines
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