An aging Kentuckian, so I have been told,
As he sat and dozed in the way of the old,
Envisioned an angel sent from on high
To ask his desires, in case he should die.
The Ruler had said, so the angel declared,
That to such an old man the truth should be bared;
He could look into the future and see a vast host,
All the angels and seraphs that Heaven can boast,
The angel appeared and read from her scroll
That if Kentuckians desired to be on the roll
Of those called on high
They could swiftly ascend when their turn came to die.
Or they could stay in Kentucky if they chose
And as legislators became on of those
Who for mad, merry months in Frankfort make laws
About porcupine ears and black panther paws.
Without hesitation you know, as do I,
That if given our choice when it's our time to die,
We'll choose legislature, and heaven can wait
To be peopled with old folks from outside the State.