The Children Sang

Oliver Cobbin

And the children all sang of Jesus Christ, their hearts warm with joy

The rosary beads and figurines, for every girl and boy

They all sat in their little chairs, so eager to learn

The tales of those that were brave, and those that did burn

 

And the children all sang of Jesus Christ, for it was all they’d ever known

The rosary beads and figurines, were cherished in every home

They all sat in their little chairs, and listened to every tale

The sun never rose in this little town, so their faces were ever pale

 

Arise little children, there’s nothing left to fear

The Lord is your shepherd, one day he’ll appear

 

And the children all sang of Jesus Christ, a man they’d never met

The rosary beads and figurines, would not let them forget

That none would go unpunished, for the sins they did commit

Sunday arrived too quickly, and the candles were ready lit

 

And the children all sang of Jesus Christ, but soon their hearts would sink

For the rosary beads and figurines, would change how they all think

They arose from their little chairs, and proceeded to walk away

From the town, where hammers pound and there is no end of day

 

Arise little children, your time is almost here

The Lord is your shepherd, or maybe your worst fear?

 

And the children all sang their own songs, of loss of faith and despair

For the rosary beads and figurines, were destroyed without a care

They wandered the streets for days, cold, lost and naïve

The towns-folk said, ‘we’ll offer you beds, if you prove you still believe

 

And the children all sang of their sorrows, in hope of being let in

But the rosary beads and figurines, proved too dark a sin

They wandered the streets for days, if only they’d confessed

They’d be welcomed in, free of sin, and once again be blessed

 

Arise little children, it’s time to make amends

Will the lord save you, or is this just the end?

 

And the children forgot all the songs, that for so long they had known

They hoped and prayed for the rosary beads, and the figurines they’d thrown

They wandered the streets for days, cold, lost and distressed

As the sun rose for the first and final time, they could finally rest

  • Author: Oliver Cobbin (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 16th, 2017 18:34
  • Category: Religion
  • Views: 45
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news

Comments1

  • Tony36

    Well written and expressed



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.