Happy Landing

Ena Tuck ran out of luck
the day she ran into a truck.
Ran out of life at half past seven
and wandered gently up to heaven.

Saint Peter met her at the gate,
said grumpily,"You're very late,
you were due at half past three,
the store is closed-I've missed my tea,
and I don't know what I can do
to find some wings and things for you."

He pointed to a jumbled heap,
"You look through those - I'll go and eat."
He coughed a little holy cough,
jumped in his cloud and floated off.

Some wings she found were not a pair,
A harp in need of much repair,
A battered halo much too small,
a dirty cloud inclined to stall.

So there she was with unmatched wings,
an untuned harp with broken strings,
a tarnished halo without fit
and no clean place for her to sit,
on a dirty, of-white cloud
in torn and tattered, unwashed shroud.

But off she went and tried to sing
a melancholy off-tune hymn,
looked pure and sweet as angels should
and plucked her harp as best she could,
on a cloud that chugged along
in rythm to her tuneless song.

Angel Tuck had more bad luck
when in her holy shroud she stuck,
an angelic yet still clumsy foot.
That's how it was that she retraced
her path to earth in such great haste
for ancient wings that aren't a pair
just can't keep angels in the air,
so Ena fell wings over toes
and where she fell, God only knows.

But Ena got a pair of wings,
a snow white cloud and harp with strings,
the earth had moved around y'see,
the time was just on half past three.