It's Sunday morning once again and I will do my thing. Start my engine; give me gas and listen to me sing. Here comes the sleepy Captain and all the workers too. They climb on board and find a seat, while wishing they were through. Now, off we go down May St. and then around the bend. The driver opens up my door while picking up a friend. We reach our destination and the Captain hollers stop! The driver honks my brassy horn, as on the children hop. Somewhere in the back, the music starts to play, so everyone begins to sing. We're rollin' on our way! Turn left, turn right and make a stop; the driver knows the route. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty kids; the Captain starts to shout. If they could only see me smile, I'm happy as can be, to think that over fifty kids are packed inside of me. It's almost time for Sunday school. Oh, what a happy day! The teachers and the preachers know that I am on my way. We reach the church, I proudly stop and off the children race, so having done my duty; I'll find a parking space. I know I've helped the Lord once more: I'll never gripe or fuss. I'm proud to be a shiny red pentecostal bus.
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