©Jeanne E Webster-All rights reserved
Once there was a lady from Big Creek
Who went to church every week
She always arrived late
T’was just her poor fate:
Though she hurried in like a streak.
The good folks were certain to peek
Things began to look bleak
As she walked the aisle
No one smirked or smiled:
Not even that nice fella, Zeke!
She swayed down the aisle so chic
Bouncing her shapely physique
You could hear a pin drop
As into the pew she’d flop:
With a thump, rumble and a squeak.
With a pungent perfume she did reek
Wore a neat hairdo and red cheeks
She would always complain
Whenever it would rain:
Her perspective needed a tweak.
One day the pastor did speak
To this sweet lady from Big Creek
He gave her some advice
The folks became nice:
She ended up marrying Zeke!