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There was a wicked messenger |
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From Eli he did come, |
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With a mind that multiplied |
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The smallest matter. |
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When asked who had sent for him, |
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He answered with his thumb, |
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For his tongue it could not speak, but only flatter. |
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He stayed behind the assembly hall, |
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It was there he made his bed, |
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And oftentimes he could be seen returning. |
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Until one day he just appeared |
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With a note in his hand that read, |
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'The soles of my feet, I swear they're burning.' |
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Oh, the leaves began to fallin' |
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And the seas began to part, |
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And the people that confronted him were many. |
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And he was told but these few words, |
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Which opened up his heart, |
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'If you cannot bring good news, then don't bring any.' |
