THE LORD IS MY POET
(Oh Sow Me On)
©Trev Teasdel Coventry April 1973


What am I doing hanging around
Dragging my feet ‘long the ground?
The strain’s bearing up under me
I’m straining to be free.
Avoiding the turds on the pavement
To fall down the cracks in the sidewalk.


And just when you think you’ve got a good line
The operator cuts in to tell you it’s time.
It’s one of those days when you think ‘What the hell’
There ain’t no words to tell what it’s like.


Words falling from the knib of my pen
Arranging themselves in lines.
Having no meaning ‘cept to prove they can rhyme.
They are saying ‘Look at me, I’m gonna be a hit’
While I’m sitting back thinking ‘What a load of shit’
Huh! me I don;t feel like much of a rhyme today
I’m a patch falling off someone’s flared out jeans.
oh somebody sow me on right now.


The Lord he is my poet, and I, I am a poem in the making.
Lord I’m shaking, ain;t I shaking.
Lord I’m shaking, ain;t I shaking..
Oh somebody sow me on.


Wondering where this verse’ll take me to.
Needing some music to harmonise with.
I’m beginning to wonder, if I was my author,
Would I write me a better story.
But the Lord is my poet, write on.
I’m shaking, Lord I’m shaking,
Ain;t I shaking, Oh somebody sow me on.
Won’t somebody sow me on…