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A          A Temporary Thing

There is one thing from my childhood memories,

I remember from way back when;

All the visits that I made to the forest,

To see a man that we called Ben.

The house that he lived in was tattered,

And for food, it seemed he needed more;

The clothes he wore had great big patches,

But not as big as the smile he wore;

 We’d always just sit around on the front porch and talk                    

 or maybe just listen to the forest…to the animals,the birds…

and the trees. And always before I’d leave….Uncle Ben would

pick up his banjer and would play and start to sing

Don’t worry ‘bout the house I live in,

I know my table’s not fit for a king;

Don’t worry ‘bout the clothes I’m wearing,

It’s just a temporary thing;

‘Till I’ll live in a big, gold mansion,

And eat manna from above;

I’ll wear a robe of fine, white linen,

In my Father’s house above.

 Just the other day I made a visit,

To my home town once again;

For old times sake I walked to the forest,

Where once lived my old friend!!!

Only the chimney was standing,

The house was a tumbled-down thing;

And in the silence of the forest,

I thought I heard a banjo ring;

 I listened for what seemed like forever             

 and, just when I started to leave

 I could still hear the banjo strummin’

Then Uncle Ben started to sing

 Don’t worry ‘bout the house I live in,

I know my table’s not fit for a king;

Don’t worry ‘bout the clothes I’m wearing,

It’s just a temporary thing;

‘Till I’ll live in a big, gold mansion,

And eat manna from above;

I’ll wear a robe of fine, white linen,

In my Father’s house above.

Bobby C Abel

You are listening to “Temporary Thing” by Bobby C. Abel