The Bus
Oh! Lord, I pray that I may live;
To drive a bus until my dying day,
I’ve drove so many miles on earth;
With not much time away.
And when I reach the other shore;
My loved ones will be waiting there for me,
A brand new bus arrives and then someone;
Comes forth and brings me a shiny key.
Then when the saints comes marching in;
And all are seated just so-so,
I’ll take my seat and turn the key;
And down the road we’ll go.
When all my deeds are brought to light;
What I have sown, so shall I reap,
And when I stand before my God;
Then may I be judged good enough to keep.
And as I stand before the throne;
And my God says to me,
Welcome home my dear and faithful son;
You may keep that bright and shiny key.
Reba R. Alsup