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