I have spent a lot of time in life trying to learn to be saintly

Book after book, look after look, time passes and still it ain’t me

Words upon words some said and some left in my head

Examples followed, some living, most of them long dead

All this time I keep spinning wheels trying to become saintly

Apples fall where they may, what can I say?  It ain’t me

If I was Catholic I suppose that my patron saint would be Nick

Pure of heart, strong of spirit, striving for good, temper quick

The man was a living saint in all legends of his many deeds

Planted thoughts, hoped for dreams, harvested from all those seeds

He spent his life giving and living in the spirit of saintly love

Making every moment count by bringing forth from the above

Manifesting charity in all his moments of living history long

I would give my life to live minutes in the way his love was strong