Happy Times Reunion!
Our shells may drop, and crash on the floor.
The breath from lungs will be seen no more!
Absent from the body, what’s that mean to me?
Well, I’ve gone to see my Lord in Eternity!
A funeral merely soothes some one living’s mind,
For everyone has fears that they cannot bind.
They cannot bring themselves to seek truth and see,
The fear that they are covering is their mortality!
Someday I’ll meet my Maker and my bags are packed.
When I do get to Heaven I’m not coming back.
There will be a sweet reunion once I’m finally home,
I do not fear what lies ahead and I’m ready now to go!
The Happy Time Reunion lasts a thousand years.
It will seem like it just started when the end is near.
But there’ll be a new reunion just around the bend.
For you will have a party when you join me there my friend.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Hudson Hornet
There I was in my cowboy boots
Just a leaning up against that car,
A nineteen fifty one Hudson Hornet,
A former winning Indy car!
Metallic blue with silver flakes,
Two carbs underneath her hood.
I won’t forget that my very first car,
With the girl there looked mighty good.
Heads would turn all over town
Whenever I’d go driving by.
Especially when I was gassing up,
A quarter per gallon seemed especially high!
One day at the Little General,
A popular convenience store,
I went inside for peanuts and pop
But forgot to shut my door.
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Santa Meets A Soldier!
It would not be surprising
if Santa Claus were real,
That he’d stop inside a soldier’s house,
And be emotionally struck I feel.
For what’s important to a soldier,
Is not worthy to be compared,
To whatever anyone else wants,
For his thinking will lay elsewhere!
While the world sees pretty packages,
All wrapped tightly with ribbons and bows,
The soldier only sees the bandages
On the injured both friends and foes.
If a soldier ever gets to sleep
It’s in a hole he dug himself,
Using entrenching tools he carries
On his green ammunition belt!
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poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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