Occasional Holy Man, Indifferent Bassist, and Maladroit Luthier Who Offers Stray, Provocative, and Insouciant Thoughts about Religion, Archaeology, Human Foible, Surfing, and Interesting People. Breaking the Narrative Since 2001. Cultivez votre propre jardin. [Also, "alot" is not a word.]
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Be ye our angel unawares If after Kirk ye bide a wee, There's some would like to speak to ye, If after Kirk ye rise and flee We' all seem cauld and still to ye. The one that's in the seat with ye Is stranger here than ye, maybe. All here have got their fears and cares, Add ye your soul unto our prayers, Be ye our angel unawares.