When Jesus Came to Play

I was in my watering-hole with some ugly friends of mine
when he door came off its hinges like a cork from fizzy wine.
He said, “My name is Jesus: I’m the leader of the band.
Got to set up my equipment, if you boys can lend a hand.”
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.
He set that bandstand jumping. Yeah, and he cranked it up so loud.
And he moved up to the microphone: had the attention of the crowd.
He said, “My name is Jesus: going to turn your head around.
I’m going to make this easy. Got no time to mess around.”
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.
When Jesus came to play. When Jesus came to play.
When Jesus came to play. When Jesus came to play.

“I got no twelve disciples, and I got no cross to bear.
If you thought they had me crucified, I guess you weren’t there.”
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play. When Jesus came…
He sang about three or four numbers, but we’d heard it all before.
We boys were getting restless: no girls were moving on the floor.
Those parables, they were merciless and the tables overturned.
And there were no minor miracles
but false prophets they were burned.
Well, maybe he was Jesus;
but his hair could have used a comb.
Long before he hit the last notes, we boys had all gone home.
Oh yeah. When Jesus came to play.
When Jesus came to play. When Jesus came to play.
When Jesus came to play. Oh Jesus, is it really you?