“A SEAMLESS ROBE!” Tuesday, January 30th: 2018.

Here’s a quaint, fashion story, from long, long ago,

‘Bout-a-crucified-man, He-is one we all know!

Paid Roman soldiers impaled him well,

On the dark Hill of Skulls, to send him to Hell.

They cast-lots for his garment – it was all that he had,

They called IT his “Robe,” but – don’t be too sad,

THE ROBE was NOT tattered, and it had a clear shine,

His Mother had made it – seamless and fine.

When he was a youth, she had spun yarn with care –

To make his first garment, flawless and fair.

And her-son wore it ALWAYS – next to his skin,

he wore it with pride – and he often did grin,

When he said: “This, my garment – no seams does it show;

It was made by my mother – that’s-why it does glow!

And I’ll surely wear it, ‘til the day that I die!

I’ll wear it to Heaven; from Hell, I shall fly –

For-I’ve broken Hell’s gate, that obscures souls and hearts,

These threads, they will shimmer – despite thorns and darts!”

fin. ❤