On Sundays we all went to church
where Captain would stand at his perch
to lead hymns, recite prayers and read sonnets
then ladies collected alms in black bonnets.

A big lady started attending
so big that when she was bending
her smock would rise up some six inches
and I’d watch for a glimpse of her britches.

She moved to the boarding house next door
only outcasts had roomed there before
yet I knew of her kindness and smiles
she’d send me across the church aisle.

Her room was across from our kitchen
where we ate and often had friction
so close once I yelled where’s the scissors?
she replied, and the good lord delivers.

As she waved her scissors I felt dread
over what else she might have heard
there were things you’d hardly call godly
then I took them to cut out my dolly.