Mrs Preddy
Mrs Preddy wasn't ready
a fragile woman, at best unsteady
no little ones to call her own
just her and Mr P alone
but a heart so big; it had to share
she needed some to give her care
she gave her all to pass the faith
but in the end, she lost her ways
twelve preteens in her Sunday School
pushed her down the rabbit hole
she tried to teach them in her home
for at the church, her mind did roam
to places, far and wide and vast
from the future to the distant past
she made them milk and cookies too
she helped their minds and souls accrue
but on the road to Bethlehem,
old voices did again proclaim
she shut the doors; the curtains tight
the house was locked from day til night
her flock was taken back to school
for children follow adult's rules
but in those cold and dingy rooms
the stories took on doom and gloom
no joy when Jesus raised the dead
just reverence and maybe dread
something to fear instead of love
not from the heart, just from above
her congregation soon thinned out
to throw and kick the ball about
while Mrs P sat all alone
and God waits still, upon his throne
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