Damn It

DAMN IT Nothing worse, than finding chewing gum, stuck underneath the pews On bare hands and knees curses Mrs Carmichael it gives her the blues A scraper in hand she tackles the job with a vigor, only known to God A week of Mr McLeod there is a mountain of it to be removed, the sod The preacher looking on, with a slight amusement, chuckling to himself While sorting out his sermon for Sunday, finished left it upon the shelf Sunday came; the preacher took his spot upon the pulpit to do his read To find all the pages stuck down with chewing gum and ripping in speed Mrs Carmichael was nowhere to be found, but her laughter it was heard With her letter stamped, asking the church that may she be transferred Indiana Shaw . . . ; ) Inspired by Ann Foster's poem "Unsettled people" . . .