The policeman stood and faced God, which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining, just as bright as his brass.
"Step forward officer, how shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek? To my church have you been true"?
The policeman squared his shoulders and said, "No Lord, I guess I ain't,
'Cause those of us who carry guns, can't always be a saint".
I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent, because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep.
Though I worked a lot of overtime, when the bills got just 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 calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here dear Lord, it needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much, but if you don't I'll understand.
There was silence all around the throne, where the saints had often trod.
As the policeman waited quietly, for the judgement of his God.
"Step forward now officer, you've borne your burden well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets, you've done your time in hell"
