Ah, what an easy job is his,
The man who’s in the preaching biz!
He has but little work to do,
For all he does the whole week through
Is just to call upon the flock
As regularly as the clock;
To cheer the sick who groan in bed,
To preach a sermon for the dead;
To teach the sinner righteousness,
And succor famine and distress;
To marry lovers, fond and true,
And christen little babies, too;
Preside at socials for the boys and men;
Look in upon the Ladies’ Aid;
See that the janitor is paid;
Hold Prayer meetings on Wednesday night,
Smooth over bickering and strife;
Keep all his actions free from smirch,
Avoid dissensions in the
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