"THE FINAL INSPECTION"
The Paratrooper stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his boots were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you trooper,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?"
The trooper squared his shoulders and
said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was a silence all around the
throne, Where the saints had often trod.
As the Paratrooper waited quietly,
For the judgement of his God.
"Step forward now, you Paratrooper,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've served your time in Hell."