by Lucy M. Young
When I reluctantly awake
And glaring sunlight blinds my eyes,
I know I'll somehow meet the day -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
There is so much I need to do;
I'd like to cleverly devise
A neat way out, but I'll do my best -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
The laundry waits, the dishes too,
And dinner I must improvise;
It seems too much but I'll work things out -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
When Gabriel blows that golden horn
And we must break our earthly ties,
I'll be there with my load of sin -
Be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise.
photo by Jeffrey Hamilton on Unsplash
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 