A preacher came up from Georgia-he was looking for some souls to win
He was in a bind; he was way behind-he was willing to buck the trend.
He first went up to Smyrna, a church out in Tennessee
And the preacher said to a church ‘bout dead, “Folks, listen to me.”
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A fun and enjoyable write; similar flow to the popular song that's implied; nicely done.
Mac another great poem and I love the way you spread Gods word you spread it with humor and make your work so light hearted Brilliant Poem. cheers Sylvie