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Robert W Service - Prayer
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You talk o` prayer an` such -
Well, I jest don`t know how;
I guess I got as much
Religion as a cow.
I fight an` drink an` swear;
Red hell I often raise,
But never said a prayer
        In all my days.

I`m honest, right enough;
Don`t take no stock in crimes;
I`m jest a dockside tough,
An` yet . . . an` yet sometimes,
If I should happen by
A church-door open wide
The chances are that I
        Will sneak inside.

It`s kin o` peaceful there,
Jest sittin` in a pew;
There`s sompin` in the air
That rests me through an` through;
It does me heaps o` good
To see them candles glow,
So soothin` to the mood . . .
        Why? - I don`t know.

Unless that sittin` still
Can be a kind o` prayer;
My heart jest seems to fill
Wi` peace . . . Oh, God don`t care
For guys the likes o` me;
I just ain`t in His line:
But when the Cross I see,
        I make the sign.
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