I met a man in patterned shorts, who came from Bognor Regis,
He thrust a flyer in my hand which asked, had I found Jesus?
So I looked in all my cupboards and the locker ‘neath the stair,
And in my upstairs wardrobe, but Jesus wasn’t there.
I asked, is he your tabby cat or perhaps your little dog?
But the little man just got steamed up and calléd me a hog,
So I combed my whole back garden, so I could pay my debt,
But no matter how I searched for him, I couldn’t find his pet.
So I took his gaudy flyer, and nailed it to a post,
And if you, my friend, find Jesus, please phone the Holy Ghost.