Ode to the Gutenberg Bible
A twister rose up one hot sultry day
and cut a straight path to the bookmakers galley.
It sucked all the type from its thin shallow tray
and flung it up over the San Gabriel Valley.
Then down through the funnel it fell with such force
that Gutenberg feared what might happen.
A lightening bolt struck, he shouted, “Of course!
I’ll fire up the presses of platen.
I’ll lay out the vellum and ink up the brayer.
I’ll ready the presses for printing.
But first I must pause and offer this prayer
Lord, now let me do some repenting
For any past sin, whether known or unknown,
forgive me, I’m Yours to command.
The text that shall come fourth must be Yours alone
and handled with only clean hands.
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