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 saw her as friendly and kind,
and of interest with her large behind.

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 borrowed them to finish my dolly.