Combed my hair, brushed on a wry smile - out the front door
To church - unlike my parents who never, ever missed.
Maybe after the sermon, 'dinner', preacher visiting - fried chicken.
Boy, we sure could stuff that and mashed 'taters' in aplenty.

Gluttony spreads well through all of our seasons - depravity
Of the weakened Spirit - never entering Golden Gate of Heaven.
On meeting Saint Peter - he and the Good Lord 'not having it'.
Meek and mild mannered welcomed - those of us most giving.