Me and Grandpa and our Can of Worms

Me and Grandpa sittin' side by side
Taking the gift of life all in stride,
Fishing, hunting, come what may.
Joys of life that fill our day.

Grandpa is my bestest friend
'Cause he loves me and I love him.
He'll always be there just for me
As we sit beneath the old elm tree.

As we sit fishin' he baits my hook
As the squiggly worm gives me a look.
I'd ask him to climb down the line
But my worms are not the miracle kind.

They just sit there perched upon the hook
As Grandpa gives them a curious look.
They stare at each other for a long while
Then Grandpa gives them each a smile.

He drops our trusty old fishing pole
Into the slime-filled waterin' hole.
He lifts his pole to check his catch
But finds his worm lying on its back.

Covered with moss from end to end
A green slime worm, oh, what a sin.
He fought and fought, found his way out.
Then soon crawled up on my own snout.

We laughed and laughed at his foul play
Returned another adventurous day.
Only to find the worms all dead.
Playing again is what they said.

So we decided that we'd lie down
To see if they'd crawl all around
On our backs we lay for hours and hours
But they never moved they never cowered.

I nudged them with my fishin' pole
Down there at the waterin' hole.
I prayed, "God, raise them from the dead."
But he just looked and shook his head.

"You've prayed to me for a resurrection
But in this case there is one exception
Without faith it's impossible to please me.
Your fishing worms don't believe, you see!"