He was Gods child
He had dirty hands, and matted hair.
He was a poor boy who wore clothes with holes.
He slept in a small cardboard box.
And he always sang the blues.
But he was Gods child.
She wore thick glasses and had freckles.
She had pony tails and wore braces.
She was pear shaped with unsightly wrinkles.
She wore orthopedic shoes with a bad aroma.
But she was Gods child.
He had an ugly face and had grubby hands,
He was a poor boy from a large family.
He didn't have many friends, he was misunderstood.
He hung upon a cross, pierced between two ugly thieves.
But He was Gods child.
Yes, He was Gods child.
Copyright 2003 by pauly hart