The Preacher comes to visit us A dozen times a week. He comes so bless-ed often, And Lordy does he speak! At night or noon or morning You’ll likely find him there; Screaming out his warning Astride the Preacher’s Chair.
The Preacher’s Chair is empty When the Preacher ain’t around. Grandpa used to sit there ‘Fore the Preacher came to town. But the Preacher’s got the recipe For emptying that seat – Don’t tell the Preacher ‘bout your sins, He knows when to repeat!
The Preacher talks to Jimmy – How he lectures to that lad! Tells him that he’ll go to Blazes ‘Cause he’s been so bad. But Mama thinks that Jimmy, He’s been good beyond compare. And someday when the Preacher’s gone He’ll fill the Preacher’s Chair.
The Preacher’s Chair is gone now, But it’ll soon be back. The Preacher still comes all the time, And Lordy does he yack! Now when the Preacher needs to sit, He can do it anywhere. ‘Cause Jimmy spread a *** of glue Upon the Preacher’s Chair!
An old poem from long ago. I plan to post a few of these. Some are pretty dark…