David plays a Jazz melody, rich and deep,
he plays at the bar, where memories in liquor steep.
He sings a negro sermon to an almost empty room.
David plays Jazz at the bar with a soulful tune,
to the derelict landlubber, drifting through time,
eyes on the horizon, no reason, no rhyme,
and to the Abbot of Derry, who once had faith, profound,
now lost to the journey where once grace was found.
Wine and water in a bar glass they share,
contemplating sin and salvation both bitter and fair.
David sings of the Glory Road, as the swashbuckler schemes.
He sings of God’s spirit while the Abbot mourns his dreams.
In the rhythm of Jazz, a sermon he sings,
of courage and faith, of the king of kings.
The landlubber listens, in awe of the tale,
of souls yet to conquer, of hearts that prevail.
The swashbuckler’s laughter rings in the air,
A challenge to God, a heart without care.
On the Glory Road, prayers are heard and Angels cry,
every time someone is taken in by a demon’s lie.
The Abbot of Derry, finds himself lost in the night,
Sips wine and water, in the dim barroom light.
He asks God for redemption, grateful for paths that converge,
where sinners and saints in dark places merge.
The derelict landlubber finds grace and finds his way,
guided by music in the darkest night, tomorrow is a new day.
David sings his Jazz sermon, and many find God’s light.
The swashbuckler with free will listens to the Abbot’s insight.
In the darkest place, every saint plays their part.
Wine turned to water, pure faith in the depths of the heart.
On the Glory Road, Saint David is praised
by Angels, as lost souls, through Jazz are saved.