He is that unwanted relative that stays too long.      

He is that thorn in your side inflicts you strong.

A small reminder, That no matter where you go

or however old you do grow.  

He will be with you till the end.

There is nothing you can do to defend

No money, treasure, or power to lend.

What does one have to do to rid himself of this pest.

Truly not one thing we can do contest.

So what joy can I have in this distress,

nothing surely but Christ’s bloody quest the only hope one has in this mess.

His passion and death has granted peace, knowing that when I flee this motal coil,

I kick that old rebel and that ole devil’s plan is foil.

Oh sweet sounds of joy can confess,

the truth of this heavenly bless.


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