The Preacherman Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

rode into town with swinging tail
tied his nag to the hitching-rail

swapped it for a smart saloon
purred along with the engine's tune

so with angel's wings and a smiley face
and holy-ground his parking space

how then he burned with a zealot's flame
he opened his mouth and the words just came

and he led them all in a lively dance
he'd opened the gates to deliverance

but a masked-man came sowed seeds of doubt
as to who'd be let in and who'd be kept out

so with deep unease they're hedging their bets
calling to God on the internet

and there they wait at the foot of the hill
of enlightenment where time stands still

he knows if cometh that witching-hour
could be saddle-bags and one horse-power