In Which There Was A Thunderstorm and Some Curry

On a stormy night, when nothing can be heard but the roar of water crashing down from the dark expanse above and nothing can be seen in the pitch-blackness but the hazy hazard lights of passing cars, it is a joyful thing to walk home under the pounding rain, completely cold and thoroughly wet, jeans hanging heavily, when there is the knowledge that you will be greeted with the warm smell of bubbling tomato soup curling, like a welcome home, from under the front door.

And then, furthermore and additionally, because there is the understanding that between you, Carl Maria von Weber and a glass of shiraz there will be chopping and dicing and stirring in the heated kitchen as the clothes dry on your back, a good hot pot of chicken curry will sit rustled up on the dinner table for the starving bedraggled waterrats late arrivals: loads of gravy for the one who adores gravy on his choice of carbohydrate, creamy bulbs of garlic for the one who enjoys his garlic creamy, sautéed onions for the one who loves her onions sautéed, and tender chicken pieces for the one who must have her chicken tender.

How Excellent Your Name
O Lord our God
How excellent Your name is
How excellent Your name in all the earth

Your glory fills the heavens
Beyond the farthest star
How excellent Your name in all the earth

When I think about the heavens
The moon and all the stars
I wonder what You ever saw in me

But You took me and you loved me
And You've given me a crown
And now I'll praise Your name eternally
Text & Music: P. Jacobs