The Funeral
While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church, our minister heard
the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt.
Apparently, his five-year-old son and his playmates had found a dead robin.
Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box
and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the
deceased. The minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and
with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father
always said: "Glory be unto the Faaaather..and unto the Sonnnn.......and
into the hole he gooooes."