I heard the crash, the ceiling done come down
Left a hole – it was quite large and round —
Couldn’t see no heaven in that wound
The plaster – it done give up the ghost
Dead and gone, that sentinel left its post
Guarding up above longer than most
I called the fix-it man to come and see
He looked up at it and cried out “Lawd-ee!
I was expecting somethin’ smaller to see.”
The Good Lord, He don’t need a hole to view
The troubles that come down on me and you
And always gives the strength to see us through
Forgive me. I know this is bad.