The preacher was a sober man,
Of that there was no doubt ;
But he was known upon the Plan
To wave his arms and shout ;
Yet what he had to say was often right
If sometimes angry feelings did excite.
One Sunday when he fetched his horse
He found him very lame,
So thought it much the wiser course
Another mount to claim.
At such short notice he could only find
An old grey donkey that was almost blind.
Since it was dark he took the chance
And safely did arrive ;
Then to the pulpit did advance
His message there to give.
The donkey safely tied outside the door
Began to listen to the preacher’s roar.
But as he stood, it came to pass
He heard what shamed his ears ;
The preacher spoke of Baalim’s ass
And made some nasty sneers.
The donkey thus outraged then had his say
And ‘mid the din the preacher said, “Let’s bray !”
But that soothed not the donkey’s breast ;
In fact it made him worse.
He to the door his hoofs addressed
And charged it with a curse.
Before the congregation’s awe-struck eyes
The door fell in and clouds of dust did rise.
And down the aisle the donkey leapt
As in some steeplechase,
And round the back the preacher crept
To seek a safer place –
We draw a veil ! But it was common talk
The preacher rode not home – nor did he walk !
Mona’s Herald 21.1.64