There was a lonely hunchback called Quasimodo
Who some thought was a homeless hobo
But he lived in a church
Where he observed life from a perch
Until one day he slipped off and died
But the ghost of Quasimodo did rise
And from the bell tower he still spied
On lovers and embraces
And friends of all races
And at night in the dark he cried
I'll always be ugly he wailed
His face full of pain and paled
But then a circle of light descended
And Quasimodo ascended
To a place where only the soul was graded
To me you are beautiful said Jesus
Your heart is full of passion and kindness
So he took Quasimodo's hand
And led him to a land
Where love was the only rule
Now Quasimodo lives in peace
And his tears have ceased
Everyday he wakes with joy
To the sound of a celestial choir boy
And his smile lights up the world beneath
The often dubious, politically incorrect and mainly humorous musings of Ms Jane Turley, Creative Extraordinaire.
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Q is for Quasimodo
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