THE FINAL INSPECTION
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint."
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
That wasn't mine to keep.
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."