Marine's Final Inspection

The Final Inspection

The Marine stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you Devil Dog,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church, have you been true?"
The Marine squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was rough.
And sometimes I was violent,
Because the streets were tough.
But I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
And I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I've never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was a silence around the throne,
Where the saints have often trod,
As the Marine waited quietly
For the judgement of his God.
"Step forward now, Marine.
You've borne your burden well.
Walk peacefully in Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."