“……Oh, who is that telling us we cannot give up?”
Stoppely, poppely, trammely, scammely friends did go down:
Go down in heaps of arms and legs and noses and ears so warped
As they squeezed into ever more narrow trails to reach a crown
Of glory they knew only by report, never seen yet as they carped.
“Oh, we uns so measely, so weasely wid all dis fallin’!
“Why, oh why, canst we not just lie down to die?
“Why, oh, why canst we not be done, not countin’, so smallin’?
“Weez be better for feedin’ de weeds in dis earth, no more to try!”
Then came whirlwind and dark, then oh-so-bright and still:
The Voice: “Where were you when I made the rocks and the weeds?
“Where were you when I set all these sunrays and starbrights to thrill?
“Where were you when I set this clear, narrow path for questing deeds?”
“Hark and bark, ye knockin-noggin critters!” called down Old Crow.
“Hear now the voice of Your Lord telling of all His Power to hold you,
“To hold you on this path, to uphold you in His Care, all for to show
“His Glory in making so great rewards and crowns for the true-blue.”