Marble in the Bag

The Methodists

The Methodist church burnt down last fall
-Down to the last cinder -
Fire Chief Parker said he'd not seen
A higher, hotter fire.

The Deacons held an Urgent Meeting
To discuss procedure.
But, in the meantime
The Methodists came
And joined us for sermon and scripture.

The first time we all took our seats,
And made the old pews sag,
There wasn't just a few of our guests
Who rolled their eyes at Uncle Bill
Tote'n his fancy bag.

Take'n up the offertory.
To the strains of Doxology
He never looked, as each gave their share.
Then, when he was through,
In the corner of the vestibule where
Folks left umbrellas and wet shoes,
He leaned the long stick against the wall.

After service, I looked over at the corner of cemetery grass,
Where the graves meet the gravel.

It was there the men
From both churches met
For a pow wow.

They did a quick count and used some division,
Then they figured out what part of the bag would stay with us...
And how much we would give for the mission
Of new church house construction.

Some remarks were made that caused tempers to flare,
Not by the men - twas the women who chewed
That bone till it snapped...

The crux of the contention
Was the good book's intention.
Some  (mostly the Methodists)
Questioned scriptural authority -

Was that fringe a portend of sin?

But, by then, we'd learned a secret bout that velvet bag.
No one knew the right or wrong of it.
But we all guessed

There was some good in it.