“White pumpkins are an aberration,” from the pulpit cried the preacher,
As his eyes scanned the congregation before landing on the teacher.
“Pumpkins should always be orange just the way that God intended,
To have them any other way is proof Satan’s powers have been extended.”
The teacher that was new to town started squirming in the pew,
For he was growing white pumpkins in his patch but only just a few.
He had in mind to try something that no one else would ever try,
He wanted to know if it was possible to make a pure white pumpkin pie.
But now his pie experiment has been condemned as being full of sin,
And to continue on with his curiosity would only invite the devil in.
Yet the thoughts of possibilities had taken root inside his head,
And he wasn’t going to give it up no matter what the preacher said.
So he snuck out to the patch that night with orange paint and a brush,
And to each white pumpkin on the ground he gave an orange-ish blush.
And when the time had come to harvest the ivory pumpkin crop,
The teacher tried to resist but he found he couldn’t stop.
He sliced and diced and mashed and baked until the pie was made,
And then with a fork held in his hand he bowed his head and prayed.
“Dear Lord please deliver me from this dish that I’m about to eat,
For if it has been Satan’s will this pie will lead to my defeat.”
But no sign was given to him and there was only silent night,
So he shrugged his shoulders and raised his fork and then he took a bite.
They found him the next morning and they knew what made him die,
He couldn’t survive the ecstasy of eating forbidden white pumpkin pie.
“Let this stand as the teacher’s final lesson to the students that he taught,”
The preacher cried “If you pick forbidden fruit it’s you who will get caught.”
But the kids knew that the preacher’s words were somewhat out of place,
Because they’d seen the teacher buried with a big smile on his face.