| Let me tell you about a man Tommy Collins
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| A veteran in country music who interrputed his career by his own choice
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| To become a minister and by the way I understand he was very successful
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| And during this period of his life Tommy pasteured a small Baptist church
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| In the very small town of Lincoln California.
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| And it was during this time that he was called upon to speak at a funeral
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| And the poem I want to recite for you now is a true experience of Tommy’s
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| And it’s simply called The Funeral.
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| A funeral is always a saddening thing
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| For everybody is somebody to someone
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| But some funeral scenes chill you to the bone
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| And one day in our town we had one.
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| A very young mother had died
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| Something that you just don’t expect
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| And the shops and stores had all closed their doors
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| They did it out of love and respect.
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| And in the crowded funeral home that day
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| With everyone present weeping
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| The sound of a little girl’s voice was heard
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| She said, «That's my mommie, she’s sleeping.»
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| Then I heard the sound of her little feet tap tap tap
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| As she made her way down the aisle
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| Her little purse dangled from her tiny wrist
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| and it brushed her best Sunday dress
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| And she boldly asserted the confidence
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| That little folks like her possess.
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| To the life that has no final chapter
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| There’s no ending and no last mile
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| The preacher and the rest were petrified
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| But on the little girl’s face was a smile.
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| She said wake up mommie wake up
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| And still not satisfied she reached out with her little hand
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| And touched her face and cried
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| Then the broken hearted daddy spoke
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| With a gentleness and with power
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| And the words that issued from his lips
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| Was the sermon for the hour.
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| In a child like faith he told her
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| That the dead in Christ will rise
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| God gave us his word he said
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| And we know he never lies.
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| We can’t wake up our sleeping mommie
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| But we know someone who can
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| Baby, only God can wake up mommie
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| Let’s go home and leave her in his hands… |