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I thought I’d cross the ocean in a rowboat;
I must admit I’m something of a showboat.
“That’s really stupid,” wiser people said,
But fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
With neither plan nor prior preparation,
I saw my novel as a great sensation
With fame in literary worlds widespread,
But fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
A gourmet cake I once considered baking
With scads of savvy diners salivating;
Yet my desserts had been a thing to dread,
But fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
I hired a hall—can you imagine that?—
To hold a concert with a voice that’s flat.
“Please sing no more,” the audiences pled,
But fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
I campaigned to become the president
While lacking needed skills was evident.
Not even had I troops of boy scouts led,
But fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Then one day I confessed my foolish pride
And asked the Lord to ever be my guide.
My future’s sure since by Him I am led,
With home in heaven where the angels tread.
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