It's a twice-told tale,
You've been before
About how God sat down
by the river shore.
Where HE thought and thought
and thought some more
HIS brow all creased in a frown
'Til he scooped up clay
Turned it this way and that way
and made himeself a man,
A man called Adam

Now, God thought, HIS work was done,
That was HIS sincere belief,
He'd created a world and ignited the sun,
And HE breathed a sigh of relief.
HE'D flung the stars against the sky,
Made the beasts and the birds that fly,
HE'D greened the grass
And the towering trees,
Sculpted the mountains
And the seven seas.
It was so new and wondrous, and yet
In no time at all
HE began to fret.

"I'VE made me a man,"
God said, "And that's good,
But he has no mate
As man surely should."
HE thought again,
With HIS head in HIS Hand,
'Til HE thought, "I'll make a woman!
That's what I'LL attain;
I'LL make a woman,
A wife for MY man,
And I do believe
I shall call her Eve!"

"If I mold her of clay
She'll be just like man;
That isn't the way
To create a woman."
Then God said to Adam,
"I know what I'LL do:
I'll make your wife
A part of you!"
As Adam slept, HE took from his chest
One of his ribs -- only the best --
And from it God made woman,
Living and breathing,
Of flesh and blood,
And God said, "That, too, is good."