Yo, Thomas, get in here! Don’t chill in the yard.
I’ve something intended for your doubting ass.
I know well why you’re out there. It’s obvious, dude.
You’re a skeptic. Get over it, and don’t be so rude.
If I ran a Christ school you’d be ass of the class.
Stick your hand in my side, and don’t think very hard.
Why my Father made you so Dad blasted thick
Is a mystery still. I must ask Him some day,
“Hey Dad, if you make a man dumber than dirt,
Does he always become, then, a doubting expert?”
Perhaps not worth asking… I will anyway.
My love for you, bro, is more solid than brick.
When I told your behind I would rise from the dead
Did you think I was smoking some weirded out wick?
“My Lord and my God,” you say there on your knees.
I can see your believing’s no act to appease…
Well, Tom, that’s terrific; don’t lay it on thick.
We don’t do Shakespeare. We do gospel instead.