Chocolate Sundays

My soul sits on the last pew, ready for a serving, of that hot chocolate fudge sermon.   

I’m trying to keep a low profile, but his candy coated words, this preacher preach, has got my spirit on high.

Can I get a scoop, or a little sprinkle of that famous scripture, uhm, I think its Proverbs 31, oh yea, that the one.

 I do love chocolate Sundays, I say I really do.  But pass that mic, Deacon Johnson’s, because your nagging tongue is overdone and I’m starting to feeling a bit queasy..    

Oh.. Lord, please deliver Deacon Johnson, his voice rattles much too long, my mind is weak from all last week, and its gettin hard to hold my peace, I can’t take his mouth for much too long.   

I do love Chocolate Sundays, I say I really do, because I love to hear them chitterlins sang, all my favorite little gospel tunes. 

Would you tug the hem of that usher skirt and signal her heart, for a Puff or Kleenex, Sister Mae oldest child is being baptized and he is planning to do a confession. 

 I do like Chocolate Sundays, I say I really do, but I get a little salty, cause that collection plate keeps passing me, I already booked a room, and made my reservations, cause Jesus already paid it.  I do like Chocolate Sundays. I do.