You took a deep breath
To sigh in sympathy I thought.
But No!
You were beside yourself in mirth!
You were laughing at me!
Gulping air,
You filled and refilled your windbag
Bleating out the discordant chords
Of that ancient score - the scoffer’s song
Puncture your windbags I wish I could
But there I sat well beaten - head bowed
I sat and prayed, you mocked and brayed
I prayed how I prayed
(But you all night brayed)
My wounds were healed
My soul annealed
With a gentle wind, without a word,
He lifted my head
Praying I was dear Jesus lord
Bloodied I am but bowed?
Hell no!
Your braying has stopped –you little fool!
Now I ponder the reason you all night cry
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