The Choirmaster
The Choirmaster stood at the Pearly Gates
His face was worn and old
He stood before the man of fate
For admission to the fold.
'What have you done,' St. Peter said
'To gain admission here?'
'I've been a Choirmaster, Sir,' he said
'For many and many a year.'
The Pearly Gates flew open wide,
St. Peter touched the bell:
'Come in,' he said, 'and choose your harp,
You've had your share of hell!'