Sung to the tune of Cher’s Gypsies, Tramps, & Thieves
I was born at the font with the covenant sign
My tutor used to say, “What is Christ’s is now mine”
Pastor would preach whatever is true
Now our tomboy preacher, sings to us of the patriarchy blues
Women, Gays, and slaves
We hear it from clergy who say we’re bound
To exalt women, gays and slaves
At every turn all their numbers come around
and shout the faithful down
Somewhere the lefties grabbed hold of the wheel
Took over the schools, taught the faithful to heel
Seized all the pulpits, and at synod they won
Learned their love at Woodstock
The Church is now being run by the prodigal son
She was open to foolin, and they fooled her well
With their smooth 60’s spin
50 years later she’ a gal in trouble
And she’s about to give birth to her sin
She’s about to give birth to her sin
We’re now held captive to an egalitarian show
Skirts in the pulpits where-ever you go
Dark ages fall, turn out the light
Trajectory hermeneutic, wrong is now right
4 thoughts on “Dedicated To William J. Webb — Slaves, Women, & Homosexuals”
Now, could you help me with how the wikipedia article applies to this?
Thanks for visiting,
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the girlyman came knocking—
The girlyman came knocking, right on the old church door.
His coiffed hair brushed back from his forehead, his face appeared languid and thin,
One could tell a depilatory had been used on his silky smooth chin
He was rather narrow at the shoulders: but wide at the hips and the thigh
And then I definitely noticed,
A bit of blue to accentuate the eye
‘Good grief’ I thought to myself, ‘he appears to be more girl than guy’
Then he stood tippy toe on his black flats, I believe he was trying to see
Inside and so I bade him enter for a cup of strong coffee or tea;
Did no one from Grand Rapids call you to tell you I’d be here today?
I’m here for the CRC,
I’ve come here from the CRC,
And to you I’ve got something to say.
And there he stood before me, his presence not more than a wisp
I noticed that he was limp wristed, and that he spoke with a lisp.
I’ve come to see you and your session, I was told to do it today
Would you be so kind as to call your elders,
I require the presence of your elders,
For they along with you, must hear what I have to say—
See my work has been done in the others, PCUSA, RCA, UMC
And I’m here to bring the same changes, to the once staunch reformed CRC.
So I beg of you don’t press me sharply, and harry me through this day,
Just give in resistance is futile,
We’re the borg resistance is futile,
Place a few women in office, and then next year someone who’s gay.
It was then I stood up at the table, the 20 lb family Bible in hand
Raised it upward and then brought it down on the head of the girlyman.
He shrieked and rushed toward door, grabbed the handle and gave out a moan,
Ah if only this was Jerusalem b.c.
Yes if this was Jerusalem b.c.
My Bible would have been the first stone.
Mark and I are soon due to release a book of poetry and songs. He is the master and I am his aspiring journeyman.
p.s. — For those interested Mark’s work is a take off on “The Highway man.” You can find it here,
That is the funniest thing I have ever read…unfortunately it accurately summarizes the scripture inspired by the American god and the lifestyle which the unholy spirit encourages.