PARSON PRITCHETT by BELLE RICHARDSON HARRISON

IT was at protracted meetin', an' the country church was jammed,
Eve'y pew was overflowin', an' the amen corners crammed.
We was all a feelin' jubous, mighty solemn-like an' still.
While the parson banged the pulpit tell he shuck the winder-sill.

His hair was white as cotton, but he h'isted eve'y song—
His skin it hung in wrinkles, but his lungs was good and strong—
He said we all was sinners, but that when we come to die,
We'd 'spect the Lord to furnish us a chariot from on high;

Or send us down a palace car to bear our souls away,
When a hand car was sufficient for sich people any day;
'At we all was mean as gar-broth to resist the Sperit's call,
Just to walk up to the mourners' bench, an' on our knees to fall,

An' pray to be forgive for all the meanness we had done,
we broke the Lord's commandments from the dawn tell set of sun.
Then the choir it bust out singin', an' some sister raised a shout,
She flopped her hands above her head an' let her voice ring out.

Then the sinners 'gun to leave the pews like rats a burnin' house,
An they kneeled down at the altar jest as still as any mouse,
When some women from the city 'at was settin' nigh the door,
They jumped up on the benches jest to see a little more.

One was lawyer Hobson's daughter, one a school marm, Nellie Brown,
Ernother was a sister of the jestice of the town.
But the parson spied them standin' dressed as fine as for a ball,
An' he said, "You city Jezebels, jest set down one an' all.

Profanin' of God's temple—you're as homely as you're mean!
God Almighty'd made you handsome ef he'd wished you to be seen."
I tell you what them highferlutes they stepped down on the floor,
Then hitched arms with some city chaps an' marched out frough the door.
They had come down for a frolic, so we boys had he'erd 'em say,
But ole Parson Pritchett nailed 'em an' I guess they'll stay away.

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