SIMON DAVIDSON
He left, his deep pockets full of gold,
And went to a far country of sin,
Spending his substance in a gambling bin,
Squandering the gifted treasures of old.
Hired himself to work in a piggery,
To get the food to appease his hunger,
To stop his dear life from being torn asunder.
The slops of the rich man became his eatery.
From this lowest estate he regained his senses,
Remembering his father house of wealth,
The life of great happiness and health,
The abundance of what his father possessed.
So he rose from the pig bin to return to his home,
And met his father’s humility and sweetest welcome.
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