Sunday School

Ask me of the Bible, or things of Christian lot
I truthfully will tell you, “Sorry, but I cannot.”
Please don’t blame my mother, who on Sundays so dressed me up
And gave to me the sweet medicine of many communion cups.

The truth, it all goes back to those childhood days
Of yellow Sundays, cotton skies, and of laughter and play;
A time when it felt like Heaven in a day
With nothing else to do but to laugh and play!

This is the charm in the Sunday school,
Where children gather as one not to learn but to fool;
For all the while the teacher is speaking
Swing the feet of these children, their Sunday shoes squeaking!

Young and fearing old they wait the striking of noon
To burst from the church, butterflies from cocoons!
And when comes that freedom, friends soon to part
Blue eyes meet brown, meet green meet hazel, in a moment of heart-to-heart.

But before the children part and go their separate ways
They all make a promise to meet again some other day;
Perhaps on a Sunday, of cotton skies, laughter and play,
To rejoice once again in this Heaven in a day.