The Church Bet

It was a stiflingly hot morning

In that little old country church

Not a sign of a breeze blowing

No matter how hard you searched

Pastor long ago shed his coat

Sweated brow, loosened his tie

“Hell will be much hotter than this”

A fact no one would dare deny

Sister Bertha sat with her friends

Sister Wilma, and, Sister Jane, their names

The widow’s fans worked overtime

To keep cool, no one would blame

Stifling a yawn, Bertha looked up

Was startled at what she spied

A spider descending a web it spun

Inch by inch downward it tried

Nudging sister Wilma, she whispered

“Nudge Sister Jane, then look up”

“Be quiet and do it very slowly”

“Just don’t do anything abrupt”

Inconspicuous, they tried to be

As they watched that spider drop

Whispering, giggling, they made a bet

On where that arachnid would stop

It was directly above the pastor

Roughly ten feet above his head

Crawling, creeping down that strand

Would stop, look around instead

“I bet it will land on top of him”

“No, on the podium it will land”

“Probably drop down beside him”

“No, it will end up where he stands”

By this time many others saw it

Were watching the progress it made

The congregation, they looked up

At that fascinating arachnid tirade

The pastor paused, he also looked up

The spider, it landed on his face

It took off, he screamed, passed out

And the choir sang “Amazing Grace”


June 14, 2022