Ballad Of Dodgy Dave The Preacher Man (A Spoof Of Me) Poem by David Harris
Ballad Of Dodgy Dave The Preacher Man (A Spoof Of Me)
He stood tall and strong
with a Bible in one hand
and a fist of iron as the other.
No one cusses during his sermons
or fell asleep there.
Fire and brimstone
was the way he spoke
and everyone listened.
He took an unruly congregation
and made them toe the line.
While they were in God’s house,
his words were their command.
He knew who the sinners were
and he would eye them out.
Once his gaze was on you,
the only one thing you could do
and that was repent your sins.
His name now lingers
on the tongues of men and women.
He has become a legend in his own time.
The Preacher with fire and brimstone on his mind.
He dresses in black
and says it comes with the territory.
A big brass cross hangs on his chest.
That’s there to deflect the bullets
when he walks down the street.
He can be as ornery as a bobcat
and gentle as a lamb.
This tall Preacher man
aptly named Dodgy Dave.
11-14 February 2008
Sounds just like the type of preacher the town of 'Dodge' needs...your hired! Love this and know this soft spoken soft hearted man is nothing like the picture he paints here...but I'm sure everyone listens to your words because they come fom that big soft heart: O) hugs lil sis
Hey David, I laughed when I read this, this is of course your alter-ego,10 for this Lynda xx
'He knew who the sinners were'.... erk... stop looking at me! D, this isn't an inaccurate picture.... except I never did agree with the 'Dodgy' bit. You're as straight and kind as they come. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 1:58:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Whoops, sorry David, I thought this was about Rev Ian Paisley! I always recall Dave Allen's wonderful story (delivered in a strong Northern Irish accent) about a fearsome preacher with eyes aflame speaking of the great judgment day. 'So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, And shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth' and a little old lady in the congregation saying 'but Rev, what shall I do? I have no teeth'. To which the terrifying preacher replied: 'Teeth will be provided.' Great poem, by the way. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥