The Old Church Building And The Old Man Poem by Herbert Dry

The old church building has stood here for almost
a hundred years
It's days of glory are over now no one
comes near

The old roof leaks the windows boarded the door hangs
on one hinge all covered
with rust
Inside the pulpit and pews all covered
with dust

There was a time every Sunday the little church was
always full shouting and praying
and singing
For many years now no one has heard the
church bell ringing

The old building has severed it's purpose it's only
an eyesore now tear
it down
An old man walked into the meeting of
the town

His clothes ragged his beard matted and
tangled hair
The towns people turned and begin
to stare

Raising his voice he took the floor this old building
is a lot like me worn and tattered and gave
it's best
For a few years now I've stayed in this old house it's
sheltered me from the heat rain and snow it's time that
we both be put to
rest

Save enough boards to build my coffin engrave my
name on the pulpit and a cross and put it at
my head
Put the old church bell at my feet death I do
not dread

If you listen closely you may hear the church
people singing
You might even hear the old church
bell ringing