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.
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