pastor appreciation poem

daughter, thou art come to die
with her hair flaying wildly
some one complained to the master
very well, you liberals
within my hand i hold
if the red slayer think he slays
i have heard that a certain princess
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
lived by the river-side
better than granite
be not angry with me
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
i know what you're going to say