The church of the future should heed and take note:
The ritual worship they've all learned by rote
Might be something so mundane;
At best --- simply inane;
Prideful trappings like young Joseph's multi-colored coat.

If religious tales warp each time they're retold,
The faith we have in them should not be so bold.
If so, icons that now exist,
By luck's strange turn or twist,
May make congregations welcome new kings to the fold.

There was no manger, but a shot-gun shack in Tupelo.
And no guiding star to tell three Magi where to go.

Instead, a thund'rous storm besieged the soggy, Delta plain,
And on that January night, the world first heard his name.

Fresh from swaddling clothes, his parents knew instinctively,
The young boy, picking his guitar, was gifted musically.

But they could not remain in Egypt, if their new young man
Was to meet his destiny and fulfill God's own plan.

So, like the trek to Nazareth, to Memphis all three went,
To find a better place to live, with their last dollar spent.

And there, though labeled ‘poor white trash’, the Presley's only son,
Increased in stature with musician's, God, and everyone.

His teenage years made confidence, as well as sideburns grow —
Dumbfounding Temple elders in both church and talent show.

No carpenter's apprentice, but the driver of a truck,
Until he met Sam Phillips through a divine stroke of luck.

The olden Testaments of music from the decades past,
He formed in His own image; a New Covenant was cast.

He melded country, blues and gospel; harmonized and whole —
The Good News spread from Sun Recordings — soon called Rock-n-Roll.

This testament anew was brash, rebellious and vain;
Grease and leather; pompadours — Hound Dog and Mystery Train.

Like miracles on Sabbath day, the public's outrage flew;
Filmed only from the waist, the Rabbi's legend only grew.

He caused his audience to swoon; some fainting as if dead,
And multiplied gold records just like fish and loaves of bread.

But duty called and sent the Private sailing 'cross the sea,.
Dropping from the public's view, two years in Germany.

He wandered next the desert for ten years in Hollywood —
There tempted by 'The Colonel', making movies, none too good.

He quietly returned to be immersed in Jordan's stream;
An NBC baptism broadcast via TV screen.

The nation's audience responded with such awe and love,
Anointing him with reverence like a dove sent from above.

Love thy neighbor as thyself was one command imbued —
Plus: Love Me Tender; Don't Be Cruel; Stay Off the Blue Suede Shoes.

Triumphantly he reached Jerusalem by satellite.
The palms though, were Hawaiian, and his garb a suit of white.

No woman washed his feet, though every time he took a bow,
The women fought to be the first to wipe sweat from his brow.

From this, and constant touring, his believers grew and grew,
But his unearthly mission loomed before him and he knew.

"Take eat, the peanut butter, fried banana sandwich too.
"It is my flesh and testament which I have shed for you."

His Last Temptations were the drugs prescribed by Dr. Nick.
He wept no drops of blood, but soon grew bloated, fat, and sick.

And mired in this cycle, friends enabled every whim —
No one was willing to remove this weighty cup from him.

But at the crucial moment, Red and Sonny did not miss —
Planting on his cheek What Happened?, like a Judas' kiss.

Betrayed by lifelong friends and bodyguards he'd always kept,
The King fell to his knees and scripture mentions: "Elvis wept."

The weight of sins exposed became a cross and heavy load.
He died not on Golgotha, but prostrate in his commode.

But he was not alone in death, for worldwide, tears were shed.
'Surely, he was the King of Rock,' the nation's papers read.

And so, the mourners lined the Boulevard to show respect,
But not all were convinced the King was dead, as you'd expect.

No angel rolled away the stone, the grave marker has held,
Though curious the middle name denoted is misspelled.

And though not 'Memphis Mafia' nor Mary Magdalene
Are those he has appeared to, countless fans claim to have seen

His visage in the supermarkets all across the land,
Or eating juicy burgers at a Beale Street hot dog stand.

The King has now ascended, seated at his Father's right.
The Son of Man has left the building. Thank you and good night.