45 year old bendix

The engineer stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

Step forward now, you engineer,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?

The engineer squared his shoulders and said,
No Lord, I guess I aint.
Because those of us who carry tools,
Can’t always be a saint.

I’ve had to work most Saturdays,
At times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I’ve become depressed,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn’t mine to keep.
Though I worked overtime,
When the bills just got too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I’ve wept unmanly tears.

I know I don’t deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to clam their fears.

If you’ve a place for me here, Lord,
It needn’t be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don’t Ill understand.

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the engineer waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

Step forward now, you engineer,
You’ve borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heavens streets,
You’ve done your time in Hell.

Old engineers are like old rubber hoses:
They perish.

Old engineers are like old timer mechanisms:
They stop ticking.

Old engineers are like (Type suitable words here)
(Type suitable words here)

Re: 45 year old bendix

Martin wrote:I will have you know that old washing machine repairmen never die…

…they just smell like they have died!