Prayin’ fer rain
There was one summer a few years back
when the rain jist didn’t come down.
Alfalfa was burnin’ right out in the fields.
the bushes an’ trees was brown.
Some of the folks got the pastor to call
a meetin’ to pray fer rain.
They met on a Sunday, right after church,
in the orchard, next to the lane.
There was people come from all around,
concerned fer the lack of water.
Just plain folks like Jimmy McKay,
and Louella, his little daughter.
When they arrived, some laughed at the girl,
what she carried caused others t’stare.
But she was a smart little 5-year-old,
an’ pretended that she didn’t care.
Folks was millin’ around a tryin’ to find
some shade ‘neath the old apple trees.
Everone sung hymns, then the pastor said,
“Let’s all git down on our knees.”
For some of ’em there who’d got dressed up
this idea just didn’t appeal.
Oh, there was some chairs fer the older folks,
but everone else had t’kneel.
The pastor spoke his word, an’ asked others to,
includin’ Louella McKay.
But an elder objected, an’ said real loud,
“Why you askin’ this child t’pray?”
The pastor said, “Well, we’re prayin’ for rain,
but only Jimmy’s Louella,
of alla the folks that’re gathered here,
had the faith t’bring her umbrella.”
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