I am one of those people without any musical appreciation. The idea of spending eternity playing music on a harp and singing hymns chimes well with my notion of hell!
I wrote this verse some time ago. It owes something to G. K. Chesterton’s poem “The Donkey” and the idea that in God’s plan there is a role for everyone however lowly.
If I get to heaven
Will I have to take a test
To see if I can sing the hymns
And keep time with the rest?
I never made it to the choir
I couldn’t sing in tune
Instead I tried to mime the words
They spotted me quite soon.
Does Peter at the pearly gates
When counting good and sin
Ask simply “you can play the harp?”
And if you can, you’re in!
God smiled “My child, there’s something
You really ought to know;
I made the tuneful nightingale,
I also made the crow.
The peacock with its gorgeous tail
Its harsh and jarring cry,
The braying ass, the croaking frog,
Who made them all but I?”
“All animals – all humans too
Have their own worth for me.
Don’t fret because you cannot sing
Come in and brew the tea!”