ConfessionalPublished by Susan on 07/29/2003 (2352 reads)
A good priest, but from humble station,
Was little used to computation,
And often found himself amiss
In calculating penances;
With arithmetical discretion
He almost feared to take confession.
The one day, spying through his grating,
He saw tow worthy women waiting.
The first he bade to enter in
Was sorely conscious of her sin,
And meekly hanging down her head:
"My husband I've deceived," she said.
"How many times? the Father sighed.
"Just eight," the downcast dame replied.
"Well," said the Priest, "I calculate
Of 'Hail Marys' just forty-eight,
And six 'Our Fathers' it will be -
In short, the blessed Rosary.
The second women took her place
With penitence writ on her face.
"Father, I've sinned," she sorely grieved;
"My loving husband I've deceived."
"How many time?" the Father gravely
Asked her, and "five" she told him bravely.
"It's kindo' hard to figger out
That penalty." - He sat in doubt
And scratched his head in worried thought,
Then gently said: "I tell you what -
Sin three times more and make it eight:
That's easier to calculate."
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