Heaven

When I was a little girl, a story my momma told
About a beautiful city made of pearls, silver and gold
She called this place “Heaven” where the goods ones would meet
After they had passed away, their loved ones they would greet.

She told me if I was good to Heaven I would go
Loving one another and telling no lies you know
That was a long time ago, mom has already gone
Now at my old age, it won’t be very long.

Now, I have some questions to ask before I reach that gate
I need to ask St. Peter before it is too late
Will there be diapers to wash, food to cook and dishes sitting there?
Beds to make, clothes to mend and dust flying everywhere?

I need to ask St. Peter, can I really see the King?
Will the angels really be there for me to hear them sing?
If he tells me no diapers to wash, no dishes, cooking or dust
He’s known to be a good man. One I know to trust.

Wonder if he would sign a contract just to make sure
I’ve had all this earthly stuff I think I can endure.