Mistaken Identity Poem by Ima Ryma

St. Peter went on holiday;
So Jesus stepped into his place.
The first man in line, old and grey,
Told Jesus facts to make his case,
'A carpenter, I had a son -'
'Special from the day he was born; '
'Transformed when all was said and done'
'To adoration from such scorn, '
'Though happening in time long past, '
'The spirit of my son lives on.'
'His story told foreverlast, '
'For all the world to draw upon.'

Jesus cried, 'I'm your son, you know? '
The old man peered, 'Pinocchio? '