Sister's Garden Surprise

It is there at the bottom of my sister’s garden Resplendent on a Sunday when lights are switched on Its low ceiling echoing the sound of the singing Those rich Welsh voices raised in hymnal song It’s a lowly country church with a pastor Whose voice raises high in sound when he preaches about the Almighty His flock wonders how long before the end Cos this pastor has a habit of floundering Will rabbit on for ever more Those that know this is the sad case Sits nearest to the escaping door His congregation started with many Singing for all their worth the words of God But after a long long sermon Not many left to verbally applaud A reminder from the poem of Robert L Hinshaw led to these words, this church really does exist and the congregation does diminish in size most Sundays.