My church is one With a big broad creed; Where you are left alone -- Judged by your deed. Where a Ladies' Aid Doesn't exist And differences are settled By blows of a fist. We worship at a shrine In the great open air; Shooting ducks on Sunday -- Golf, when it's fair. The church -- it is round And built on the level So it's an impossible task To corner the Devil. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT OURS THE VOWS by BERNARD BARTON A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THREE MOMENTS IN PARIS: 1. ONE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT by MINA LOY NEW FRIENDS AND OLD FRIENDS by JOSEPH PARRY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 50 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI VAN ELSEN by FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT |