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        T’wer Sunday morning, I got to church
        I wandered in to find my perch          
    But when I found my usual pew
    Imagine what came into view
    An alien in my posterial place
    Where I did rest my weary base.

    Shocked is how I felt that day
    A gert big Anglican in my way 
    So off I stomped, aflame with pride
    To find a place where I could hide 
    Forgiveness, it did not exist 
    Another name upon my list

    The Lord, He came, and had a chat 
    I felt just like a spoilt brat     
    It seems that I had made Him sad      
    By worldly thoughts, cause I was mad
        Repenting quickly, I was spared
        The King of love, He really cared.