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Ode to Brother James


by Brother Jake Jackson

February 2008

Written for Brother James' 50th birthday




One song, Two song,

Old Song, New Song.






This one has a little twang;

That one has a little clang.

Oh, what a lot of songs he sang!



Some are serious; some are silly.

Some sound classical; some hillbilly




Some just for kids, some for adults,

And some about religious cults



Here’s a song about the Lord;

There’s a song about his word.

The Bible is a mighty sword!




He sings about the Saviour’s birth;

He sings about the Christian’s mirth,

And fiery judgment on the earth.



His songs are heard across the lands

From jungles thick to desert sands.

Insatiable are all his fans!





He may not win a game of Risk,

But he sure can make a compact disc!


He does not want cheers or applause,

But please, don’t worship Santa Claus.




Don’t laugh if you don’t think he’s funny,

But put away the Easter Bunny.




Do not pretend to think he’s mean

For criticizing Halloween

And every magic fairy queen.



Though you may think he’s almost done,

He’s just beginning to have fun.

“I’m working on another one!”





What’s next?  In French?  In Dutch or German?

Or one that sounds like Pee Wee Herman?



His youth is past,

His health won’t last,

His muddled mind is fading fast.




                                              O                        J            &           A



Yet he won’t quit until he’s famous

Like Obadiah, Joel and Amos.



Weighed down by his advancing years,

Unable now to mount the stairs,

Still he makes music to our ears.





The scavenge birds now fill his skies.

Half-blind are his time-worn eyes.

He presses toward the writer’s prize.



His thinning hair is turning gray.

His joints will ache throughout the day.

Yet still his songs have much to say.





For all his ills there is no cure.

His crumbling health he must endure.

Still he produces records pure

With music bold and message sure.



As his body races toward the grave

And his mind recedes within its cave

His songs go out for souls to save.





His mortal life is almost over.

His corpse will lie beneath the clover.

But his songs are heard the whole world over.



Will his songs be understood?

Will anybody think they’re good?

And appreciate them as they should?





When Brother James is dead and gone

(Time marches on – it won’t be long)

Will anybody heed his song,

Repent, and turn away from wrong?



When ends his life upon this globe,

After his final doctor’s probe,

He’ll receive his heavenly harp and robe

And sing under God’s disco ball and strobe.





Thus ends Brother James’s story: