Mfrankston
8th November 2004, 21:56
Ten little christians came to church all the time; One fell out with the preacher, then ther were nine.
Nine little christians stayed up late; One over slept on Sunday, then there were eight.
Eight little christians on there way to heaven; One took the low road, then there were seven.
Seven little christians, chirping like chicks; One didn't like singing, then there were six.
Six little christians seemed much very alive; One took a vacation, then there were five.
Five little christians pulling for Heaven's shore; One stopped to take a rest, then there four.
Four little christians each as busy as a bee; One had his feelings hurt, then there were three.
Three little christians couldn't decide what to do. ONe couldn't have his way, the there were two.
Two little christians, each won one more; Now don't you see, two plus two equals four.
Four little christians worked early and late; Each brought one, now there were eight.
Eight little christians if the double as before: In just seven Sundays, we have one thousand twenty four.
In this poem there is a lessen true; You belong either to the building, or to the wrecking crew.
Nine little christians stayed up late; One over slept on Sunday, then there were eight.
Eight little christians on there way to heaven; One took the low road, then there were seven.
Seven little christians, chirping like chicks; One didn't like singing, then there were six.
Six little christians seemed much very alive; One took a vacation, then there were five.
Five little christians pulling for Heaven's shore; One stopped to take a rest, then there four.
Four little christians each as busy as a bee; One had his feelings hurt, then there were three.
Three little christians couldn't decide what to do. ONe couldn't have his way, the there were two.
Two little christians, each won one more; Now don't you see, two plus two equals four.
Four little christians worked early and late; Each brought one, now there were eight.
Eight little christians if the double as before: In just seven Sundays, we have one thousand twenty four.
In this poem there is a lessen true; You belong either to the building, or to the wrecking crew.