At Christmas time, we are reminded
That there was no room in the inn for God's own son;
In the heat of this hot summer, we are being lectured,
That there is no room for God's laws, not even one.

Take that monument out that you have built,
To America's creator, and founding God;
Do it today, not yesterday or tomorrow,
Or the jailhouse will become your earthly sod.

Sorry, no room for the baby Jesus in our secular Inn,
And no room for these overbearing aging tablets of stone;
Why not get in a space ship and fly away,
And drop them on the moon where they belong.

Many times before, the gift of law and truth,
Has been darkened and its liberating light not shone;
Once again, a high court in this well educated land,
Has stated, we need only man's law, and his laws alone.

What this high court does not seem to realize,
Nor cares to attempt to fathom or understand;
Is that its own laws of not stealing and killing,
Came directly from the heart of America's creator,
and His own caring hands.