Who will help the Widows Son?
The sun has set, the workers sleep.The temple's quite, the floor is steep.
I walk through the dirt and the bumpy rough stone.
I shout very loud to make sure I'm alone.
The temple's not finished but shall stand very straight.
As I glance in the distance there stands a young mate.
All tired and inpatient he walks very gentle.
But demands to know secrets, those of the temple.
To my left a young mason, to my right, one doth chasten.
They threaten with death, they will spill my last breath.
My secrets of the craft will stay locked in my heart.
For even three ruffians cannot steal them apart.
I lay on the ground for they think they have won.
I glance at the temple, I grieve, it's not done.
I cry one last time......Who will help the widows son?
Bro GianPaul Callipo
Maple Lodge #54 G.R.C.
