Make way Oral Roberts, Sir, Brother Ike is on the air
affirmative action states the airwaves must play fair.
Bro Ike is really desperate for a brand new Cadillac
his handmaidens all set to please when he hits the sack.
Brother Ike shouts: ‘Mercy, Father – thank you for the rain, ’
dry under his umbrella, ‘Look, Lord, we’re harvesting their pain’.
Put your hand on the radio, you heard me right first time –
the Gospel hour kicks off just about half-nine
only seconds after our neat commercial break
extolling the virtues of greens and tender sirloin steak.
So put your hand in your pocket and dare to bring
Brother Ike needs his Caddie, sing Sisters, sing.
Maybe you’re deaf, or you’re half-blind
Brother and Sister, you’re imprinted on my mind.
My prayers are heard at heaven’s throne –
Bro Ike don’t need no sweet trombone
to get his attention, Father out there
you’ll make it to heaven on a wing and a prayer.
Sing, Mama, sing
loosen your grip on the old purse string.
Put your hand on the radio, claim your healing
Brother Ike’s out here, just get that feeling.
Gather our homeboys from those mean streets.
I’d welcome food stamps to make ends meet.
So, tune in again same time next week
bring your halt, your lame, and your undeserving meek.
And may the blessings of God Almighty
descend on you all, both near and far.
And may your gift come humbly rising
like Venus, our evening star.
Comments about this poem (Radio pulpit,99.5FM by Julian De Wette )
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