While walking along the footpath in front of his church, our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt.
Apparently, his 5-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 wool, 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 Father, and unto the Son, and into the hole he goes.'
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Possum; AKA:- Ali El-Aziz Mohamed Gundawiathan
Sent from my imperial66 typewriter using carrier pigeon, message sticks and smoke signals.
