Face down in the mashed potatoes The Reverend Doctor ended up Where he was thrown his deathly throes Face down next to his upended cup There when life and death came to blows Blown away then by his own buffet For life or death nor hesitate The Reverend Doctor ate and ate Being a good man if not great Broad of beam though narrow he could seem Nor any why not just why when He would know then he would tell you so Just how many angels should dance On the head of a pin then again Could not dance himself should the chance Arise but pies and cakes went right in And butter cookies by the tin Gluttony his one if only sin The wind blows who knows where it goes But the Reverend Doctor is gone Except to be face down in those Potatoes like clouds that pass us by That do not care that cannot lie So pass the potatoes life goes on Face up under clouds I wonder If he got his pie in the sky +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMXIII