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 smile
that 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.