Me, Lord, me; no beauty,
warty, son of the soil;
wall-eyed and grubby -
I must admit I’m grubby -
not much to look at,
rather round;
but honest, Lord, I’m honest.
No fancy clothes,
can’t dress me up
to be what I am not.
I speak my mind
plainly;
I don’t compromise.
“He shall fill the hungry with good things”.
O.K., Lord, try me;
any way I’ll nourish them;
they’ll love me for it
(sorry; you, Lord, you);
Lord, you created me.
Love me, use me, please;
not a lily of the field, I know;
only a spud.
But please, Lord.
(February,
1980)
