Stephen Evans Heremesi
Paul asked, “Oh death where’s your sting”;
Yet you behave like a hallowed king.
He asked “Oh grave where’s your victory;
Yet our sorrows you produce in your factory.
Our loved ones are dead and down, six feet.
For our torn hearts you do not have pity.
You specialty is in tearing us apart;
When we weep and grieve that’s when you party